Hybrid
by Eilys Close
Summary: Post Avatar. Jake Sully has a new life with the Omaticaya, and his life mate Neytiri. Humans have left. But he knows they will come back, and he'll be ready when they do.
1. Prologue

**Story Title: **_HYBRID_

**Genre & Pairings: **Post-Avatar, Action/Adventure/Romance/Sci-fi/Fantasy/Spiritual Jake/Neytiri, Norm/OC

**Author: **Eily's Close

**Disclaimer: **Avatar, Pandora Jake Sully, Neytiri ...(et all) belong to James Cameron, 20th Century Fox Entertainment, ect. By writing this fanfiction I make no profit or claim to ownership of this property.

**Author's note: **I have written many fanfictions before (not on this account) but this is my first AVATAR. I watched the movie a few days before Christmas 2009 and loved it. This is a post-Avatar story (ie, what happens next). Please enjoy!

* * *

**Prologue**

The Na'vi feel in ways a human does not. Whether because humans can't, or have forgotten how, Jake Sully would never know, not now. They were far away from the smouldering corpse of Home Tree, yet the stench of its death still could be detected in the air and in the rivers. There were times when he would stop drinking from the waterjug bush, seeing his reflection. A part of his mind reminded him that he had not always looked like this, that this was not his natural form. But every movement, every sensation, that was all real. He just had to be among The People to remind himself of where he belonged. It had never been that old, dying planet. He'd never felt at home while there. It was here. On Pandora.

The clans were leaving in the morning. All were going home. Yet his clan, the Omaticaya had lost their home. Scouts would arrive tonight. They'd left hours ago, searching in all directions from the Tree of Souls to find a suitable new home. Jake had not gone with them. There was something he needed to do. His human body lay at the roots of the Tree of Souls growing cold, but it could not stay there. His energy had moved on, and it was time to give his body to Eywa.

He could not touch it. It was instinct, some primal knowledge that no creature should touch is own dead body. Neytiri gave him a seeing stare, then picking up the tiny human body herself. He was almost embarrassed to see it there – so small and fragile. He had always thought those paralysed legs to be incongruous with his personality, but now he could see it was all wrong for him. Neytiri would never have loved him, never have wanted to even know or look at him in that body.

Neytiri seemed to know where just to go. They found a small hollow amongst the roots which was lined with leaves. He turned away, unable to watch as Neytiri lay his body down. People he knew gathered around – fellow hunters who had come of age with him, Mo'at, warriors... He did not know when they'd found flowers, but he saw them move past him towards his old body, no doubt to cover it as he had seen them do at other funerals.

Neytiri's cool hand touched his wrist. "You must come," she said softly.

He turned, loathe to look down. His face looked almost serene, down there. A bit like Tom, almost. His breath caught. He hadn't thought much about Tom since his brother had died. He pursed his lips, staring down. A seed of the Tree of Souls floated down, resting upon his human cheek. He was barely aware of the words Neytiri was murmuring beside him. The others began to drift away, for there was much to be done, so that it was only he and Neytiri. He knew she was watching him – his Na'vi body. Waiting.

"It... it's strange," he said at last in English. "I always thought me and Tom would somehow... I don't know, die together."

"Who is Tom?"

Jake turned to Neytiri. It'd never occurred to him to tell her about his old earth life, his human family. He'd been so busy learning hers.

"My brother. We were twins."

Neytiri looked down. "I did not know. What is a twin?"

"You don't know?" he said. "It's when two babies are born, and they look exactly the same." He paused. "Not all humans are twins," he clarified. "We were unusual, I guess. Don't the Na'vi...?"

She shook her head. "That is ... it only happens to animals, not Na'vi." She cast a strange look at him. "Jake..." she breathed. "Toom... is still in the Sky People's world?"

Jake shook his head, looking up at the canopy. "It is a long story. But basically, _Thomas_ should have been here, not me. This," he waved at his blue chest, "was supposed to be his. He knew everything about the Na'vi. But he was killed, a week before he was meant to leave. So I came."

"So you came," she repeated, her eyes following his, up through the trees to the other moon in the darkening sky. "I am glad," she said at last. "Not that your brother died, but that you came."

He turned to her, arms reaching around her. He rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. "So am I."

Her arms slowly held him. "You must tell me," she said, her eyes flicking between his, "someday, about your world. I have made the mistake," she took at deep breath. "It was unfair for me to ignore you when you have learnt everything there was to know about us. I should have known about your brother."

"I am who I am here," he said. "It's all in the past. It doesn't matter."

"It does to me," Neytiri said. "_You_ matter to me."

Her eyes flicked down to his human corpse.

"Perhaps later?" Jake suggested.

She stepped out of his arms. "Yes." They slipped through the forest back to the clans. He was needed at the celebrations.

As they neared, Neytiri seemed to be more excited, speeding up. It was hard to tell, with fifteen clans of Na'vi in the surrounding forest, but it seemed extremely crowded.

"Come, come," Neytiri cried, excitement getting hold of her.

"What's happening?" Jake asked, as she broke into a run. She stopped next to Mo'at, her mother, both watching him. He drew to a halt, noticing everyone was looking at him. _Again._ He frowned at Neytiri.

She stood at his side, her voice low in his ear. "It's been decided."

"What?"

He had been appointed Clan Leader. As Neytiri's life mate, and as Toruk Makto, rider of the Toruk, it was more than enough reason. He argued against it, of course – he was not born of The People and did not know their ways as even the youngest child would. How could he lead them? But Mo'at was a convincing woman.

"It is good to have knowledge," she acknowledged. "But we need action. You See our people. Your strong heart will lead you when your knowledge fails."

It was a small party, Neytiri told him, that he participated in tonight. His inauguration would not happen until they had a home.

Needless to say, if _this_ was a _small_ party, he wondered what could be a _big_ party for the Na'vi. Plants glowed, swaying to the singing of the people. There were about 5 000 Na'vi collected, even after the death toll. Amongst the trees Na'vi danced, thousands upon thousands on the ground, in the branches, whooping as they flew past on their ikran. They gorged on fruit and all other kinds of food. Even those of the wounded who could keep their eyes opened gathered around to sing and talk and joke. Jake heard of all the wondrous places on Pandora he had yet to see and know – the sea, the plains, even the polar caps which were secret to those who had not been there, no matter how much he begged to learn of them. "When you clan is settled, perhaps visit the Unatja," the Clan Leader of the Plains Na'vi told him. "In the southern forest. They may take you there."

He fell asleep beneath the Tree of Souls with his arms around Neytiri. Tomorrow they would have a new home. Their world was safe.

When he woke in the morning, his Toruk, which had been hanging around since the battle, its huge shadow passing over him from time to time, was nowhere to be seen. It had finally left completely. An ikran can carry only one for any period of time, and so he decided to walk beside Neytiri, bonded with his horse, or pa'li as they were correctly known as, but allowing a wounded warrior to lean against the beast's neck instead of him riding it. Neytiri had lent her pa'li as well – to three giggling children that stared at Jake the whole day as they journeyed along the path the scout showed them.

He occasionally stared back at the children, finding it funny when they squealed and pretended to look away, giggling. Neytiri would scold them, turning back to the path with a slight smile on her face. Jake found himself thinking she'd make a very good mother. A tiny thought occurred to him – could they have children? His body, after all, was a hybrid of DNA; it could be that they were incompatible. He didn't even know how reproduction of the Na'vi worked! Well, the act of mating was not that unfamiliar... but he found it impossible to imagine the Na'vi women swelling with child as human women did. And if they did, he'd yet to see one, and it seemed unlikely that not one female could be pregnant in the three months (had it only been that long?) he'd known them. He puzzled over this for almost an hour.

His attention was diverted, however, when Neytiri gave out a delighted laugh. His head jerked up, and he stopped, the pa'li beside him halting as well.

It was not Hometree.

But it was almost as beautiful.

A cluster of huge, tall, thin trees with many branches that stuck out at right angles from the trunk had all leant towards each other over a small lake, forming a dome like structure. Hammock leaves and vines and fungi covered the trunks and branches, which formed a cobweb of connections. It was beginning to glow in the dimming light, reflecting off the water, which gave off its own glow from fluorescent underwater plants. Na'vi were already rushing forwards with delight, up, up into the trees.

"It's called the Nest - Arani," Neytiri said to the children. "Up, there at the top, the trees have all melted together to form a platform, where we may pray and have meetings. Although it took us the whole day to get here with all the People of Omaticaya including our wounded, it is actually only half a day from the Tree of Souls, a quarter on ikran. We never lived here simply because we had Hometree, but it is the best home we could have now."

Jake was pretty sure she meant the words for him to hear too.

The children thanked her, running off with one last goodbye, joining their families.

Jake reached over, taking his mate's hand. "It will never replace Hometree. But it will be the Home of a new life, yes?" She whispered, golden eyes reflecting the eerie blue of the waters.

He nodded. Leaving their pa'lis to graze on the banks of the lake, they began to climb the trunk of the closest tree, up into their new home.


	2. Tested

**Chapter One – Tested**

The Nest was different from Hometree. That, Jake thought, was an understatement. Even simple things were different. Instead of rising spirals, there were gently sloping trunks and branches the size of the apartment he'd lived in back on Earth to be used to travel into the main body of the dwelling. Instead of hammock leaves, a strange type of spongy pink fungus was used by most for sleeping upon. It was beautiful, but would take some getting used to.

It was always relief to open his eyes in the morning and not find himself in his human body. He could go straight to his normal life – normal life being his Na'vi one, with no care for making sure his other body was fed and washed and had gone to the bathroom. His body was his own. He sat up, raising his arms above his head and yawning.

Neytiri was sitting out on the branch, her legs swinging below her.

"Don't jump," he told her.

She turned, her ears up. Then she grinned, baring her teeth.

"You take too long to wake up," she said in Na'vi. Although his language was still poor – he could not speak it when stressed; but she used every opportunity to use it with him.

"It's not fully light yet," he replied. The sky was a soft shade of pink. Polyphemus sat in three quarters of the sky, a surreal reminder of where they were. "Do you ever see the sun?"

Neytiri looked up at the sky. "After seven months, she is replaced by her daughter who shines bright but small. Then at the end of the year, another seven months, she returns to our sky."

"You have..." he quickly did the maths, "fourteen months? In a year?"

"Yes," she nodded solemnly. Then she turned to him. "What else would it be?"

"Well, on Earth there are twelve –"

She quickly turned away, braids swinging. Then she switched to English. "Grace said that there is no giant orb in your sky. That your... Earth," she struggled to pronounce the word, "is like her," she pointed to Polyphemus, "and there is a small ..."

"Moon," he supplied.

"Moon," she repeated, "that is like our world, in your night sky. And every day you have your child-"

"What?"

Neytiri frowned. "Son," she remembered at last. "Yours is a son, not a daughter, who brightens your sky every day of the year. There is no Mother Planet."

Jake nodded.

She growled. "I cannot speak in English any longer," she complained, standing up. "It makes no sense," she added in Na'vi.

"Now you know my feelings – Na'vi is just as confusing," he told her in Na'vi with a smile, standing up and joining her. Her face twitched and twisted at his words, her ears flat. "What?" He asked.

Her eyes were searching his. He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to stop him. "When we are private," she said in English, "we speak your language. You should not ... forget who you are."

"I can't." He reached out, half shy, and took her hands. "But I'm gonna speak Na'vi."

"I do not want to speak Na'vi with you!" She snapped, her tail whipping up behind her.

"Huh?" Jake frowned. "But you teach... taught me!" He persisted in strangled Na'vi.

"Norm can help you," she said in English, her accent causing her to trill the 'r'.

"But why?"

"In English!"

He pulled away from her, suddenly angry. "What is this?" he said in Na'vi. "I come. I come here. I be ... Omaticaya, Na'vi. You ... months teach me. Now, I am here. You not want me be Na'vi?" He hoped she understood him, his words coming out all wrong as he fought his anger and confusion. He did not understand what had come over her.

Her cool hand cupped his cheek. "I have said something wrong." Her voice was soft.

"I don't ... understand," he finished.

Neytiri pursed her lips for a moment. "I accused you of being ignorant when I first met you. Now I am ignorant."

His hand held hers to his face. "You understand me perfectly. I am _not human_ – I don't ever _want_ to be one again. I..." he didn't want to tell her that he was ashamed. Ashamed of what he had been. Ashamed of those memories, his ignorance. "I want to forget it happened."

He could see in her eyes that this only made her more curious. But she didn't question again. Instead she rose up on her toes, pressing her lips to his.

His anger disappeared immediately. This was a universal feeling he understood. Her skin against his, her lashes on his cheek, the roar of blood in his ears. He held her up against him.

"Uh?"

Jake turned to see a confused and embarrassed looking Norm standing near the trunk of the tree. "Um... I'll just ..."

Neytiri pulled back from Jake's arms. "How is your body?" she asked as an attempt at normalcy. As if Norm hadn't just seen a hunter princess wrapped around his friend. Jake chuckled. Poor Norm.

Norm looked down at his ribs as if surprised to see them there. He was tightly bandaged. "My Avatar died from the gunshot," he said. "Lucky Max knew how to fix it... We just got back this morning – I mean, the Avatar. I'm still at the lab."

Jake couldn't help a slight smile. He understood the confusing aspects of using an Avatar when it came to using "I" – something Norm had always better at than Jake had. Norm knew who he was, no matter where he was.

"It'd be easier if you were ... permanent," Jake said.

Norm looked at Neytiri. "Well, I suppose," he wrung his hands nervously. "But I'd have to become Omaticaya first and that means a lot of time learning and it's gonna be hard and I'm not really sure if I can handle flying, to be honest, even if it's really cool – I mean really cool, but even if I could do all that, the Omaticaya would have to accept me and –"

"You will one day," Neytiri announced, startling both Jake and Norm. They looked at her. She looked at Jake. "You _are_ going to be Olo'eyktan - Clan Leader," she reminded him. Her head cocked to the side, ears pricked. "Almost. We're going to be late."

She slipped past Norm and up onto a higher branch. Norm was staring at Jake. "Did I just hear what I think I did?"

"Nope," Jake lied, leaping after Neytiri. Norm made a lot of noise following, grumbling as he slipped.

On the branch above was a flattened part. Neytiri was fishing things out of niches in the trunk of the tree. Ochres, Jake thought, catching a whiff of mud and juice mixed. And something else – tangy. Almost like ...

"Where the hell did you get matches?" he asked Neytiri. There was a small book of them in her hand.

"Shh!" she said, crouching. He supposed they had been taken from the humans at some stage. A small rock with kindling was in front of her. She struck a match and lit the kindling. She breathed on it, holding her braids back until a tiny fire began to burn.

"Should you really be doing that here?" he asked nervously, looking at all the wood around them. He remembered briefly their first meeting – how she'd rushed to kill _his_ fire. How stupid fire was, really. The Omaticaya had special pits on the ground with rocks surrounding for cooking. Safe places.

Norm was standing silent. He probably knew exactly what was coming, Jake thought bitterly.

"Sit down," Neytiri ordered. Jake slowly sat in front of her. He was frowning as he watched her open a small pouch, pulling out what looked more or less like a needle. Then something else metallic was placed beside her, something with a small hook and a golden disk.

"No," Jake said slowly. "I am _not-"_

"Shut up," Norm called, annoyed like always at Jake's lack of understanding. "You should feel honoured."

Jake watched warily as Neytiri held the needle into the flame. "I don't care. I don't want an earring!"

Neytiri's large eyes pinned him.

Jake crossed his arms and pursed his lips. Neytiri moved to his side regardless, grabbing his ear. Jake didn't move, secretly resigned. But he let her know with such a look that she could not feign innocence as to knowing his feelings about _this_ particular ritual. Give him tattoos and scars any day. Earrings were for _girls._

He growled when the hot needle jumped through his ear, the earring quickly following it. "It burns," he hissed.

Neytiri ignored him, and Norm chuckled quietly. She quickly killed the fire, spreading out ochres. There was the same silky white he'd worn at his last ceremony, the lemony yellow of the warriors, an aqua green, a vivid red. She set to work on the patterns for his face and chest.

"Taking notes?" Jake mock growled at Norm.

"Sure."

A thought suddenly occurred to Jake. "Um. Exactly what do I have to do?" He asked.

"My mother will read your fortune. If it is good, you are approved. You then have to compete against three archers and three wrestlers who represent those who may have any questions of you – you win to get their approval. If you pass, you will have one last trial."

"What's that?"

"I do not know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Is it difficult?"

"Yes," Neytiri wouldn't meet his eyes. "_Very_ dangerous. Some have died trying."

"What?" Jake grabbed her hand, and she involuntarily met his eyes.

"It is different for every man who has tried. The last one happened before I was born – my father and mother became life mates on the night he became Clan Leader. Nobody is allowed to speak of the ceremony after it has happened. I cannot help you."

They were silent for a while, Neytiri painting, Norm watching, learning, and Jake sitting, tail curling and uncurling. It was good like this – like before the war.

"What if I can't do this?" Jake said when she put the finishing stripe down the middle of his face in vivid yellow. His voice was soft, his eyes narrowed, his head turned up as he watched her.

Her ears dropped. "You are like a baby," she snarled. But her eyes were too wide – her dismissal was false. "Did you not led us in our greatest sorrow? Who here is Toruk Makto?"

Jake set his jaw, and nodded.

Neytiri settled back on her haunches. "You are ready."

They stood up. Jake's skin felt cool where the paints dried. It was full morning now, the forest ringing with animal cries and the sound of the wind through a billion trees. Jake did not need to ask where to go. If he was to be going to Mo'at, he would only find her up on the platform. When they'd gotten there the night before the Tsahìk had been arranging for a young seedling of the Tree of Souls to be transplanted to the Southern corner, where it would get the best light. Such an activity was dangerous – the plant could be lost, its connection to Eywa destroyed. The whole clan had spent half the night singing it into the tree.

Once again, all of the Omaticaya were gathered. Mo'at waved him over, her unreadable eyes appraising him, checking that her daughter had prepared him correctly. Neytiri sat in the front row, tugging Norm down by his tail.

"Come here," Mo'at commanded, standing before the young tree. Her hands held out to him, he cautiously stepped forward. Her hands closed on either side of his face, her eyes staring into his. Her eyes narrowed. "You are sure?"

He dipped his head. Mo'at's eyes closed.

They stood there for a very long time. Jake's eyes looked around while he kept his head held between Mo'at's dry palms still. Everyone had their eyes locked on their clan's Tsahìk and potential Clan Leader. Mo'at did not be seem to be doing anything. At all.

"We have changed the way you think, Jakesully," Mo'at said out of the blue. His eyes were immediately on hers, which were staring at him unblinkingly. "You will bring new things to us, too. You will face great difficulty – from enemies and from family. It will not be easy. The Omaticaya's pain is not yet over."

Jake gulped. This did not sound like he was going to get the approval after all.

"But you will be strong enough to face it; I think..." her head turned slightly. "Yes..." she said slowly, "There is only one you need to fear." She suddenly leaned close, so that none of the congregation could hear, "Tomas will not easily understand you taking this body."

Jake stepped back. There was slight murmuring at this – he had obviously broken protocol. He did not care. He was staring at Mo'at. Neytiri must have told her mother about the truth of his body. About his brother. "But he is dead," he said in a low voice.

"Those who have not lived are not dead," Mo'at said.

Jake did not know how to answer this. Mo'at turned away, her eyes leaving his after she raised her hands, "His fate is to be a great leader!" Mo'at cried. "His connection with Eywa is strong. Those who may test his body to be strong also, come forward!"

It was decided the archery was to be held first. A few young ikran riders flew around, ready to follow the arrows. It was a test of who could shoot the furthest. Looking at his competitors, Jake was a little worried. His bow was still his borrowed one, old and scuffed. The two other men were wide shouldered – for a Na'vi – with huge biceps, the woman contender tall and wiry. He himself wasn't exactly small or weak, but these men and women had been practising probably before they could walk. He'd only manage to shoot his first arrow two months ago.

The eldest archer went first. His arrow shot off from the tree – an ikran rider disappeared after it. A few minutes later the ikran perched on top of a tree a long way away. Jake gulped. He went next. His arrow fell well short of the first man's. Luckily they would get three tries each.

The other two went, their arrows landing approximately near his. Ikrans perched on trees, markers of where the arrows had landed.

The second time, the first man's arrow was blew off course by a wind. Jake's shot straight and true past all the others. The other two archer's arrows failed to catch up.

Jake frowned. He had been sure he was going to get beat before. He gave the archers a puzzled stare.

The third round. The eldest's barely cleared the end of the lake. Jake's whizzed off – the ikran appeared the size of a small dog in the distance. The other two archer's last shots were miserable. A cheer went up for Jake. The archers slapped Jake on the back, grinning. "You can be clan leader," they said in Na'vi.

He was hurried to the middle of the platform for the wrestling match. The rules were simple: get your opponent on the ground until he claimed to surrender.

The first fighter was a lithe woman. Jake wondered if he should go easy on her. He moved towards her when the match started, hands up.

She kicked him in the chest, following through by flying over his shoulder, an arm wrapping around his windpipe, and he realised he'd been duped. His hands grabbed her arm, and he bent over. Met with no success, he rolled forwards.

The woman fell off, panting on the floor. She didn't even try to get up. "I surrender," she said. Jake frowned. It had been too easy to win – he had felt this girl's agile strength.

Jake glanced at Neytiri. Her eyes were sparkling. As the next fighter prepared themselves, he hurried to her and whispered, "What the hell's happening?"

"You are winning."

"They're faking it," he corrected her in a growl. "Why?" he said in frustration. "I can't even fight to win. The archers didn't even try. How is this supposed to prove anything –"

Neytiri grabbed his shoulders. "It is tradition," she told him. "It is not real fight. It show they will surrender to you. That they believe you greater than them. They at _your_ command. They good at one thing, you good at many, they believe. This is good. If they fight to win, it offend you."

Jake processed this. "So this is all a show?"

She nodded.

"Brilliant," he laughed, turning. He rolled his neck, eyeing up his new opponent. A man he knew, Nguran who was a brilliant hunter who had a knack for swinging through trees like a Tarzan. He was also built like a bull. Jake grinned, suddenly confident. Nguran, even if he was going to throw the game, was of such strength that he would inadvertently be a match for Jake.

Nguran charged. Jake ducked, ramming his head and shoulders into the other man's stomach. Nguran groaned, winded. Then Jake felt his legs rising – Nguran had grabbed his tail. He slipped, face smashing down, Nguran chuckling as he held Jake's legs in the air. Jake did the only thing he could- his heels dug into Nguran's face. Nguran fell back, dropping Jake who jumped to his feet and pushed the faltering Nguran down. Nguran lay, panting, chuckling. "I surrender to you Toruk Makto," he said. Jake gave him a hand to get up.

His last opponent was the last person he expected. Neytiri stood on the other side of the ring, tail twitching, ears up.

"You wrestle?" Jake said, aghast. Some people laughed at this.

Neytiri raised an eyebrow.

Jake shrugged. If she was going to surrender to him anyway, he might as well go easy on her.

That was a mistake.

It wasn't that Neytiri was the strongest or the quickest fighter. True, she was good, but she had an advantage the others had not had. For Neytiri knew his weaknesses. His weakness was her. And she exploited it.

Between strangling him and twisting him, her body would press against him, her lips lingered for a second unseen by the spectators. Jake was torn between frustration and distraction.

"Nothing distracts you?" she mocked in his ear, her lips moving against his skin.

Growling, he pulled from her grip, and forgetting all notions of being a gentleman, picked her up bodily, put her on the ground and straddled her, holding her wrists down. She hissed and twisted for several moments before going limp. He slowly smiled at her, panting.

"You will be a good Clan Leader. I never doubted it," she said. She smiled.

He let her up, standing. The calls and cheering was deafening.

"Silence!" Mo'at cried. The clan immediately quietened, sitting back down, joining with Eywa for the last part of the ceremony. "You have won the approval of the Omaticaya and Eywa ... there is one thing," her head turned slightly, her eyes sliding to him.

"One thing you must give up," she said. She leaned forward. "What would you give up for the Omaticaya?" she whispered.

"Anything," Jake answered. "I'm nothing without my People."

Mo'at began to lead him to the Seedling. She looked regretful, as if she did not want to name his last rite of inauguration. "You want to protect each of them from all sorrow you know of?"

"Yes."

They had arrived before the seedling. She leaned forward to speak into his ear. "That is what you must give up," she told him. She pulled back, grabbing his plait. "A Clan Leader must be aware of all the problems of his People. But you cannot protect each of them. You cannot save them. You will have to know, but only act for the good of all."

Her hand caught the new earring that hung tenderly from his new piercing. He was looking at her in confusion, not quite understanding all she had said.

"Sky People wanted this," she said, rubbing the disk. He was surprised. The Na'vi had shown no signs of even knowing what this stone was in all his time with them, nor that they knew that the humans wanted it.

"Unobtanium," he realised.

"We have no use for it, except ..." She removed the earring and bared her teeth. Jake glanced at it. "It is what strengthens Eywa. It flows in the blood of all animals, in the sap of trees. It is useless on its own, but when it is big enough for the eye to see ..." She was pulling something out of her shawl. It was bead of unobtanium. She was loosening his plait of hair. His breath quickened. What had Grace said? He could go blind.

Mo'at strung the bead onto a thin strand of his hair, and then a pale pink fibre was separated from the others and it wrapped itself through the bead. She braided his hair again and flung it back over his shoulder.

"Be ready," was all she told him before putting his earring back in.

He was connected with Eywa. He could hear every thought of the past, of the forest, and of the entire clan that sat before him joined with Eywa as well. It was not much different to being connected with the Tree of Souls or the Tree of Voices, or the daily worship he'd performed during his time with the Na'vi. But it was all at once. It was consuming. He forced himself back to his surroundings, the buzz of infinite energy still buzzing around his mind.

He gently touched the earring. "It's ... a transmitter?" he said, astonished.

"You cannot take it out," Mo'at warned him, snatching his hand away. "Ever."

"That's ... cool," Jake said, although he wasn't quite sure. But he was relieved. He thought he was going to have to fight a monster for his final trial. This seemed almost tame.

Mo'at seemed to read his thoughts. "Come to me in three days," she said. Then she walked away.

The Omaticaya began to break up. Clearly they knew that the trial was not yet over, that they would find out if they truly had a new clan leader another day.

Neytiri joined him.

"You had me worried," he told her. "I was expecting trial by fire the way you went on earlier!"

Neytiri's ears were down. "What is the longest time you have spent with Eywa?" she asked.

"Um ... an hour?" he guessed.

She watched him steadily, waiting for him to make the connection.

"But this time it's forever?" he verified. She didn't answer, letting him work it out. "I'll hear everyone, all the time," he said slowly, trying to understand what Neytiri clearly knew but he obvious did not, yet. "Morning, day, night ... I'll know when they're happy. I'll know when they're sad." He frowned. "There are so many. I won't ..."

Suddenly his mind lit up. New energy had come to Eywa. A young ... he didn't know what it was, where it was, only that it had died and was with Eywa. He realised it could be a thousand miles away. Then he realised it was happening over and over, the cycle of life all around him. It was all animals and plants. He panicked.

"They're dying!" he said.

Neytiri placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him as he began to pay attention to all the things he'd blocked while the ceremony was finishing. And this did not even include any Na'vi, whose emotional responses would be much stronger, he knew. He could only imagine for now what it would be like when everyone returned here this evening to worship.

A nightmare.

The Omaticaya's sorrow for Hometree, like his own, was still fresh. Tonight his would be increased a thousand fold when everyone connected with Eywa. That, plus all their personal worries. Grief for lost family members, wounds ...

He couldn't help every member of the clan with all of their problems. It was impossible. This is what Mo'at had meant when she said he had to give up protecting them. It would be agony to know, to feel, and be able to do nothing.

But why would he do nothing? Jake straightened up.

"I can't save them all," he said fiercely. Neytiri shook her head sadly. "But I can damn try."

He strode away. Neytiri paused for a moment, then followed him.

Jake knew, that when he met Mo'at in three days time, that she would not be disappointed.

For now, he would take every moment as it came. He was not looking forward to tonight – he dreaded it actually. But he wasn't the type to complain.

He headed down. The lowest parts of the Nest were as low as only five meters or so above the waters of the lake. More agile than he'd ever been he ran down onto one of these hanging vines – old vines, thick and hardened with age, and looked down at the waters. Neytiri slowly approached, the reflections of the water dancing on her blue skin and causing the spots on her face to glow.

"You're beautiful," he said abruptly.

She looked down at the water, smiling. "Skxawng," she said.

She shot him a look, then yelling "Za'u!" she jumped.

Jake looked over the side. "Oh damn," he said, hesitating. Her eyed bobbed up above the water and she yelled up at him.

Closing his eyes and the roar of the forest in his mind, Jake jumped.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. I'm the kind of writer who likes to be on friendly terms with my readers. I will read reviews and try to incorporate any ideas you bring up, if I think it stays true to the story (and many things you guys suggested _are_ actually already on the drawing board, so to speak). So don't be shy!

Go to www dot learnnavi dot org for language and translations. I will be avoiding full sentences in Na'vi, simply because I know from experience that it can tire out the reader – everything will be translated into English and I will state what language it is (as in this chapter) unless it is fairly obvious.


	3. The Dreaming

**Chapter Two – The Dreaming**

"_Let him do his spite:_

_My services which I have done the signiory_

_Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,_

_Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,_

_I shall promulgate - I fetch my life and being_

_From men of royal siege, and my demerits_

_May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune_

_As this that I have reach'd: for know, Iago,_

_But that I love the gentle Desdemona."_

Othello, Act I, Sc ii (William Shakespeare_) _

* * *

You don't dream in cryo. It takes too much energy. Parker Selfridge, therefore, should not have had the images that ran through his unconscious mind. Yet there they were, causing his heart rate to double and the lights on his chamber to blink erratically, seen by none of the passengers, ignored by the people back on Earth who had other things to think about. A multi-trillion-dollar operation had gone wrong.

A light blinked incessantly.

Unobtanium. That's what they called it. It was, they had thought, unobtainable. Yet it had been there, tons of it, just within his grasp. He would have been a thousand times richer than all the currency that had ever existed. Everything he wanted would have been his. Hell, maybe even the dying forests and the ruined climates, the sluggish rivers with undrinkable water and the hovels stuffed with humanity would spring back to their former glory, all for him.

But not now.

It takes six years for the journey between Pandora and Earth. It was one of – no, _the Earth's greatest_ scientific achievement. A short trip to the moon paled with the magnificence of this! That _was_ one small step for man. Here, this was where the leap was. Not a leap, but _flight._ The laws of physics were worked and twisted for human will until they were almost unrecognisable. A hundred years had passed since that first little blip had been detected the night they unveiled the greatest telescope ever built. The tiny little blip that many could not believe. The telescope had promised to rip away the mysteries of the universe. But it had offered more than that for Selfridge. It had offered the universe to him on a platter.

If a pair of foot long, five fingered, genetically engineered (and paid for by Selfridge himself) blue hands thought they could snatch it all away from him, then they were sorely mistaken. Selfridge, who shouldn't have been dreaming, dreamt of the future. It would take six years to get to Earth, another six to return. But one day, Parker Selfridge was going to return to Pandora and to a future he _knew _was his destiny. A future in which he was going to give that Jake Sully a much needed wake up call.

* * *

They swam to the edge of the lake, pulling each other's tails and laughing, diving under and grabbing, splashing, having fun all the way to the edge. It felt good to play with Neytiri. Jake needed a break from being so serious all the time.

As Jake emerged from the water, he noticed the paint had completely left his skin. He glanced back at the water, trying to see his reflection, but the lapping of tiny waves made it impossible. Neytiri shook her head to remove the water from her ears; Jake flicked his own. It was still odd to him to be able to control parts of his body he hadn't while human. Not just his ears. His legs. His _tail. _He shook his hands, his fingers wrinkly from hours in the water.

Without a word, Neytiri slipped through the ferns at the water's edge, quickly swallowed up by the forest. Jake followed.

Her hands touched plants here and there, her feet light and sure. Although it was a pity that her ikran and her palulukan – he planned to wrangle _that_ story out of her at one point – were both dead, he did not see a reason to rush for another animal. Neytiri knew her way through the forest better than the animals that dwelled there.

_And I hope daddy gets us some food for tonight. I'm so hungry. Give thanks to his hunt, Eywa._

Jake stopped, glancing back in the direction of Hometree. It could not be seen through all the foliage, yet the voice of an Omaticaya child talking to Eywa had been as strong as if the little boy had been sitting on Jake's shoulder, speaking into his ear. Shaking his head, he turned back to the path. Neytiri had stopped, and was watching him.

He pointed to his head, "This is gonna take some getting used to," he said. "But you know me. Not gonna complain. I just shut up and listen, eh?"

Neytiri didn't answer, squatting next to a patch of tiny star-shaped flowers that covered the ground. Drawing nearer, Jake noticed the whisper-thin petals, slightly transparent. "They bring sleep," she said, gathering a handful, twisting them up into her hair. "Sleep without dreams."

"Cool. Are we gonna need – "

She lightly leapt over a mossy trunk and continued on.

"I guess so," he muttered, following.

She found a plant – if it was one – not far away shaped like an anemone with fur instead of tentacles. She gently dug it from the earth. "Eat this, and you will not be hungry for eight days," she said. Holding it in one hand, she continued to dig, and pulled out a tiny pod. "We will take its seed with us," she explained, replacing the plant and passing him the seed.

"Is this really the time to have another lesson?" he asked as she began to climb a nearby tree.

"This is your body now. You cannot get it fixed like Norm," she called down. "You must care for it."

She peered over her shoulder, running her eyes over his body. He eyed her in challenge, puffing out his chest. Neytiri turned back to the tree. Exhaling, he began to climb after her.

"I read the book y'know!" he called. "Dr Grace knew about all these plants! I don't see why-"

"I did not learn with a book," Neytiri said, leaping ever upwards.

Jake thought about that. He'd never been a book kind of guy either. That had been Tom. It couldn't hurt, getting some real experience. He doubted a book would be able to explain to him what things smelled and tasted like in the same way Neytiri could show him. He wasn't like Tom, or Norm, who could look at a bunch of pictures and black scribbles and have the information stay in his head. He hadn't become a marine for no reason – he liked action. He needed to _do_ things.

It wasn't that he was unintelligent – just his intelligence did not lie in books and theories. And although Jake had lived with the Omaticaya for three months, and learned enough to be accepted, it was not ingrained into his blood and bones like the rest of his clan members.

The Pandoran environment was still strange to him at times. He'd grown up hearing the stories and seeing the documentary, but it'd never really gotten into his head until he'd arrived just why it had captured his brother's attention so much. He wondered how Norm could do it, living in his Avatar with only a book to guide him. He'd have to help Norm, he supposed. If Norm was going to become Omaticaya – and what else would he do, now that he was going to live on Pandora for the rest of his life – he would need to learn to live and breathe like Jake had, like a Na'vi. Norm would have to give up his precious science.

Jake grinned mischievously. Oh how he would love to have the roles reversed – Jake now the teacher! He could be the one to call somebody a moron, to poke when they didn't hold their bow right, to watch as they caught their ikran for the first time. Of course, he'd have to wait until Norm was completely healed – gunshots to the ribs were hardly going to heal in a day, no matter how good Dr Max was. It was astounding, really, that Norm was in the Avatar at all.

"It's pretty freaky how Max made Norm's Avatar work again, huh?" he called to Neytiri. He didn't need to focus on climbing like he once had. Arm over arm, feet finding purchase on vines and moss, it all happened as easy as walking.

Neytiri was crouched on a branch. Her eyes were large and golden, locked on him. It was kind of eerie. Humans did not look at other humans in the way a Na'vi would look at one of their own people. With the Na'vi, you_ saw_ a person. Perhaps that was the reason it had never occurred to Neytiri to pester him before about his Earth life. She saw into his soul and liked what she saw. Why deal with pesky details that had no relevance on Pandora?

Dr Grace had told the Na'vi all about Earth life and culture, and Neytiri had simply assumed the same applied to Jake. Oh, of course he was different, but all his differences were exemplified by his Na'vi life. His bravery – his idiocy – his strength, and his willingness to learn – that was the Jake she saw. He was glad for that. She had never looked upon his body with involuntary pity, never thought him incapable due to something that was out of his control. Sure, he had been a skxawng, but that could be – no, _had _been fixed.

"Max is a smart human, no?"

Jake crouched next to her. "Yeah, he is."

He looked out at the forest. "Guess he's going to live at the Base," he said, "with the others. The oxygen and food is sustainable … " He looked to her. "All of them but Max have an Avatar. Do you think they'll all become ... permanent, and leave him alone?"

"You will be the one to decide if they are to be Omaticaya. But I think," she said slowly, "that they will miss their human bodies if they do."

Jake pursed his lips. Of course it was different for them – their human bodies worked. Was she right? Did they see their half-Avatar lives as fulfilled? Surely like Norm they had a good grasp of what their reality was. He tried to think what it'd be like to live like that. He had his People. How must it feel, to be the few surviving members of a human colony on an alien moon, never to return home? They'd wanted to stay, but what –_who_ did they think they were? Alone? Explorers? Jake would never know.

But if they lived that life, it proved one thing. They wanted their humanity. Why shouldn't they? Not all humans were like Colonel Quaritch – and those humans, those scientists represented some of the best of humanity. Even if their cup was full, as Mo'at had called it. A lifetime on Pandora would slowly change the water in their cup into wine.

It was oddly comforting to Jake, to think of that small group of pioneers. For make no mistake – he was Na'vi. But Na'vi are not human beings – they saw their world in a truly different light – and it wasn't just the light reflected off Polyphemus from the star Alpha Centauri A seven months of the year.

The Na'vi did not spend their days sitting around and quarrelling or pondering their existence. They knew their role, given to them by Eywa. They went out to feel the wind on their face, dirt under their toes and the bioluminescence on their cerulean skin. Their relationship with the environment and people was fierce and passionate, but at the same time often quiet, like two best friends on a long journey, who didn't need to say anything because they already knew what the other felt. _That_ was why Neytiri's sudden questioning set Jake off balance. It was too human, but not in a good way, and it gave him uncertainty in a world he thought he'd just come to fully appreciate.

It was too much like the people back on earth who asked, as if they had a right to his entire life story simply because he was in a chair with wheels, "Oh do you need help? –When did you- from birth? Oh, the Marines? When did you join? Oh, you have a brother? Wow, he seems to have achieved a lot! How does that make you _feel? _It must be awful!"

They'd never stopped to think, hey, maybe it was awful but he wasn't letting it get to him.

Neytiri understood that, he knew. Her questions were driven not by lack of understanding, but guilt. Or so he thought. There were some things about Neytiri's mind that Jake would never understand. Wasn't it the same with all females?

"They probably will," he agreed. "I don't, but I'm different."

"You are, Jake."

_Tsu'Tey, my friend, if you hear me it is Kxoril. All is well, the Tawtute are banished. The Dream-walker is to be olo'eyktan. Give him strength, friend, brother._

The Omaticaya warrior, Kxoril, a man Jake knew, was gone as quickly as he had come through the connection. Jake's eyes cleared, and he regained his balance. Omaticaya could connect to Eywa whenever they wanted. But even when it was one, it completely boggled him. He noticed the shadows growing deeper. Soon they would have to return to the Nest. Soon, he would have the entire clan's minds within his own.

"I am sorry," Neytiri broke his lapse of attention with her unexpected words.

"Huh?"

She inclined her head towards him. "I confused you this morning."

"You made a big deal out of something I'd never thought about before," he said. "_I_ reacted way out of order. It really doesn't make _that_ much difference." He shook his head at himself. "It's just ..." he pressed his lips together, "I'm an idiot, a skxawng, okay? Bad things happened to me on Earth, and I guess ... I blame the whole planet. That's silly, because it was _my_ fault I got paralyzed. But sometimes it felt like," he sucked in a breath, "like the whole world was against me, like it couldn't see that I was just Jake, not 'Jake the Paraplegic with a Brother who's going to be the most Awesome Scientist Ever'... But when I met you, none of that mattered. None of it. So I guess I want this world to be all I ever had, because it's so much better. Do you get it?" he pressed.

She was looking down, slowly nodding.

"Sometimes Eywa has a plan for us, but we never know. All the Omaticaya ... are in great sadness for Kelutrel," she looked at him, and he saw her eyes and cheeks shone with tears for her home. "But if it _was_ Eywa, do we blame Sky People? No. Do we blame Eywa? No. She has great power. She would not let things be destroyed. All energy returns. We must wait."

Jake slid across the branch until he could wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Is there another reason you want to know about my Earth life?" he asked. He'd wondered about this.

She quickly wiped her tears. "Yes."

"You won't tell me?"

"No." She glanced at him. "Not now. There are some things ..." she cocked her head. "Soon there will be great happiness," she said decisively.

"What kind?"

She pushed him away, standing up. "You ask too many questions, Jake."

"That was only one!"

"Too many," she said, grinning secretly. "It is almost dark, and we need to be on solid ground when people go to worship."

"When you say we, you mean me, don't you?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

He reached out, and took her hand. She watched him warily. "Neytiri," he said slowly, turning her hand over in his. Her three fingers against his four showed their difference. "Your father must have had this," his free hand gestured to the earring, "I saw it on him. How come you did not tell me about it?"

"I did not know about Tsahaylu," she said honestly. "My mother would have told me, eventually, before she died, so that when I am Tsahìk ..." she shook her head, looking away from him. "I knew my father understood his people, I did not think ..."

"Why doesn't the Tsahìk have it?" he wondered.

"You hear the ancestor's voices, no? And the Omaticaya?"

"Yes, although I can hear the forest –"

"Tsahìk connects to Eywa, and brings Her to the People. If she has the People – they distract her. She confuse their wanting with Eywa – not good. _You _are the People, and bring them to Tsahìk, to Eywa."

"We're a team," Jake realised gleefully.

"We are One," she said, her voice heavy with meaning.

He gripped her hand. She began tugging him back to the trunk of the tree. "Come," she told him.

As they neared the Nest, Jake became more aware of the rising numbers of Omaticaya seating themselves before the seedling. It was not like prayer in the human sense that you talked and imagined an answer. Eywa was real and tangible, and although She barely took notice of any one individual, there was always that comforting flow of energy. And of course, if you went to the Tree of Voices, you could be lucky enough to have your ancestors answer. The ancestors were not fully conscious, but if you were lost or upset, you would know they were there for you.

Neytiri held his hand as they walked doggedly through the forest. It was harder to keep his mind in the here and now. His breathing turned erratic as he lost his sense of self – his breathing trying to sync with each Na'vi that joined.

"You're gonna have to slap me," he half joked as they got to the edge of the lake. A huge trunk rose up, and they walked along it.

Wordless conversations with Eywa. Grief, happiness, hunger, fear. A sharing of a nightmare.

Jake wondered if _he_ would be able to dream. He hadn't last night, or the first night he'd slept in his new body. He wanted to. Did Neytiri dream? If so, what about?

He could hardly believe, when they got up to the platform, that it was less than half who had gathered. Daily worship was not a requirement – you came to Eywa when you needed her. Still, the thunderous number of voices he heard through Tsahaylu had led him to believe that many more had come tonight.

He carefully took a seat, unsteady. Yellow eyes looked to him through the falling darkness. He felt almost drunk. He sat beside an elderly woman, and felt her worry for her wounded son through the link.

Jake hunched over, trying to concentrate on his breath. In. Out. The clean smell of Na'vi people all around him. All around him, and in him.

He couldn't bear it any longer. He reached out beside him, blindly, catching the woman's wrist. "He's strong," he hissed through his teeth. Felt her surprise – his own breath caught at the same times hers did.

Neytiri gently reached over and pulled his hand back. She made to let go, but he gripped her tightly.

A sudden bright spark surfaced. At first, Jake did not know who it was. It was full of wonder, shock.

_This is awesome!_

Jake opened his eyes, glancing around. There, at the back of the congregation, Norm had quietly sat between two others and for the first time joined with Eywa. It was Norm's tumultuous feelings he was aware of.

The congregation left in twos and threes. Norm disconnected with regret and Jake stood up, wanting to catch his friend before Norm put his Avatar to sleep.

"Norm!" he called, catching the other man just as he had begun his struggle downwards. "Have dinner with us."

Norm stopped. "It's been a long day," he said.

"You're telling me!" Jake left out a breathless laugh. Norm looked hesitant. "That body's not gonna heal itself," Jake said.

Norm gave Jake a confused glance. "I snuck in," he admitted, waving a hand towards the platform. "I know only Omaticaya are technically supposed to but I was curious and-"

"I'm glad you did," Jake said.

"You heard me, didn't you?" Norm said uncomfortably.

"Barely," Jake lied. "There was a lot going on." That part was true.

"Don't bullshit me," Norm said. He hesitated, then leaned forward, "What's on the menu?"

"No idea," Jake said. "I'm sharing with some of the hunters – I haven't really had a chance to catch anything myself," he said with a rueful smile.

"Huh." Norm let out a self-conscious laugh. "Oh, hey, Neytiri," he said.

Jake glanced over his shoulder to see her approach.

"You are going the wrong way, Norm," she said.

Norm let go of the vine he was holding with an embarrassed laugh.

After dinner, Jake decided to take pity on Norm. Norm was, at the best of times, forgetful and clumsy. But a pair of hastily patched up holes in his side only added to his lack of coordination. Norm's avatar would need a place to stay for the night. Neytiri left them, promising to see Jake at the place they slept.

Jake's Tsahaylu was growing quiet as everyone drifted off to sleep. It was late. Jake found a bed for Norm. A group of other young Na'vi cast them a curious glance as they laughed and pushed each other, ready for bed. Jake leaned out from the tree, down at the shimmering waters of the lake. "You'll be okay here?"

"Yeah," Norm said, setting his jaw. His hung back from the edge, obviously not trusting his own sense of balance.

"I wonder how it grew to be like this," Jake breathed, glancing up. "I've never seen group of trees do this, not even on Pandora. And how'd the platform get there? It's weird."

"It's not a group of trees," Norm said with exasperation. "What made you think that?"

Jake waved down at the huge trunks, nine of them, situated around the edge of the lake and rising up to form the platform. "Those are the trunks, right?"

"Wrong!" Norm growled in annoyance, forgetting his fear and joining Jake. "Those are _roots._ This is the same species as Hometree, Jake, or didn't you notice that the leaves and the bark were the same?"

Jake smiled guiltily. "I might've," he fibbed. "So how did it get to look so freaky anyway? It's not nearly as tall as Hometree was."

Norm frowned. "What I _think_ happened," he said in a tone that suggested he was sure he was right, "is that long ago, this tree was much bigger than Hometree. The roots are the same like Hometree, but it looks different because of the lake underneath. I don't know where the spiral went ..." he frowned to himself. "But as for the platform, and why the whole tree is so short: _obviously_ there was a storm, or something, long ago that broke off the top of the tree. Erosion made it smooth but the outer ring – the bit where the tree is alive, must've survived, and grew up..."

Jake was looking up, but they were in a hollow between tangled branches that resembled a wooden cave, much like all the other sleeping areas, so he couldn't see the heights of the tree.

"That is pretty cool," Jake said.

"Cool? _Cool?" _Norm repeated. "It's magnificent, that's what it is."

Jake smiled. Of course that's what he felt, but he wasn't the kind of person who used words like 'magnificent'.

"I should get back to Neytiri."

"Yeah. Uh, right – I gotta get back to sleep. Tell the others what happened today. They'll want to know if they can visit, you know –"

"The Omaticaya are a bit busy at the moment," Jake reminded him. "How about we rain check?"

"Sure," he said as he climbed into the hammock. "Gee, this is even better than a latex bed." Norm curled up and closed his eyes. His arms went limp, and Jake knew he was gone.

Neytiri was with her mother, sitting on the bed having a quiet conversation and holding hands. She leapt to her feet when he coughed to announce his presence. He went straight to her, gathering her against him in a gentle hug. She was slow to return it.

"It's quiet now," he told her. He looked up, glancing at Mo'at. He wasn't talking about the forest, which never stopped being full of hisses, clicking, rustling and dripping.

Neytiri's hug tightened. Mo'at slid off the sponge fungi. She spoke in Neytiri's ear as she left, and Jake could only a few of the Na'vi words, "..._like your father."_

Jake's lips twitched to a smile. "You gonna tell me what that was about?"

Neytiri climbed onto the sponge. "I had some questions that only she could answer."

"About Eywa?"

"About many things," Neytiri said, laying down. Jake joined her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. The forest was still alive in his mind, and he wondered how he was going to sleep. Eventually, his eyes drifted shut and his breathing deepened.

For the first time using his new body, he dreamt.

_The forest glowed golden with the last sunset of the year. Young hatchlings of creatures great and small filled the air with their keening. Flowers bloomed, the air dusty with spores. Everything was humid, dripping, and there was damage around him that signified that there'd been a thunderstorm. His Tsahaylu whispered, a constant chatter of life. Eywa, whispered a few lonely voices of Omaticaya People._

_Beside him, a bush rustled and Neytiri's face popped between the leaves. "It's started," she told him._

"_What has?"_

_She laughed, disappearing. He followed, but all he saw was the movement of leaves, the tip of her tail, her shadow distorted, running through the underbrush. Never a clear sight on her. "Wait! Wait up!" he panted, but she didn't slow, laughing all the time. The voices in his mind were rising. He didn't understand them, all he knew was their panic. All he knew was that he shouldn't be out here, and neither should Neytiri._

_Eywa. Eywa. It was a clear chant now._

"_Find my mother! Tell the People!" her voice came from his left. She was struggling to talk through her laughing. It wasn't a good laugh. A delirious laugh, maybe. "It's started! Thank Eywa!"_

_Suddenly she screamed, a long an torturous cry of pain and suffering. He was pushing, running through the forest towards that scream, but he couldn't find her. The voices were more panicked in his head. The forest glowed red for a moment before it seemed suddenly very dark. Neytiri's scream stopped._

_Eywa. Eywa!_

"_Neytiri!" he yelled. He came to a halt in a clearing, turning around, eyes searching for her. The voices were like shouting through his Tsahaylu._

_Eywa! Eywa, Eywa! All Mother! _

"_Eywa!" he begged. "Where is she?"_

"Eywa! Eywa!"

"Shh!"

Jake's eyes opened. Neytiri was over him, holding his face. "Shhh," she said soothingly. Jake flopped back down, his heart thunderous in his ears, which echoed with Eywa's name. It was still dark. Neytiri's face was creased with worry. He struggled to sit up. His heart rate began to slow as he realised it had been a dream. The details were already slipping away from him.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

She stroked two fingers over his forehead. "You were yelling my name in your sleep."

"Yeah," he said, hunching over to catch the last of his breath. "What a nightmare."

"Do you remember it?"

He sat up. "I was chasing you," he said. "You screamed, and I couldn't find you."

"I am here," she said, pressing her lips to his cheek.

"It was very real," he told her shakily. "What time is it?"

"There is time enough for more sleep," she told him, gently pulling him back down. He reluctantly rested his head down and closed his eyes. Neytiri's breath fanned out cool across his neck and the forest was filled with a cicada-like buzz. It felt ridiculous now, to think of how frightened he'd been in the forest of his dream. He wondered if it really did glow orange and gold at sunset. He wondered how many months they had left until the sun returned.

He opened his eyes. Neytiri was asleep. In her hair, the flowers she'd picked during the day were still curled, still fresh. He reached a hand out, picking a few, and placed them on his tongue. The tissue-paper-thin petals dissolved with a flavour not unlike peach.

Exhaustion came over him quickly, and he slept without dreams.

He was awoken in a fashion he would soon become accustomed to. As the forest stirred, and Na'vi set off for hunts, it was customary to ask for luck from Eywa. It was not bad, _per se_, to have the voice of hunters asking for luck from Eywa to wake him up, but it could be confusing. Jake woke disoriented. _Was he going hunting?_ Reality returned, and he got to his feet. He picked up his bow and arrow.

"We're going to have to hunt soon," he told Neytiri as he squeezed through a gap in the wood of their little cavern, using his arms to cling onto the mossy trunk. "We can't – " he panted, swinging himself out onto a huge branch, "keep taking from others. It's hardly – " he landed with a grunt, "like a leader."

Neytiri landed on the branch, lithe as a cat and her breathing slow.

"They understand," she assured him.

Jake paused. "I heard a little boy was hungry yesterday," he told her. "His father's wounded. His mother's too busy caring for his father." Jake looked up at the heights of the Nest, stuck his thumb and finger in his mouth and whistled. It was a whistle that had served him well at football matches and the marines alike. Now, it called his ikran to him. He looked back to Neytiri. She wouldn't be able to hunt with him – an ikran could not carry two adults.

Neytiri sighed regretfully. Jake's ikran was soaring into view, and she eyed it with barely contained jealousy, and a veil of sadness for Tze'ze. "I will find his family, and we will share our meal with them. Don't take long," she said, unconsciously voicing Jake's own plan. She clenched a fist, eyes still on the ikran as it landed on the thick branch with a screech.

"We'll get you a new one," he assured her, jumping up and patting the ikran's neck while he bonded with it. Instantly his mind was focused, overtaken by his Tsahaylu with the ikran. It did not kill the connection with Eywa, but he could not help the bark of relieved laughter. "Damn - I should do this more often," he said. He saw Neytiri frown. "Tsahaylu," he told her. "Makes my mind clearer."

She seemed to have expected this, nodding. "Go, Jake," she said, "before the day is too late."

He urged his ikran off, feeling a slight pang to leave her behind. He gave himself over to the senses of the ikran, its sharp sight and nose, focusing on the hunt, resolving to return quickly. At last he had a tangible way to use his connection to the people to help them.

He wasn't going to just sit back and be helpless. He was olo'eyktan, and he would do anything, big or small, to help his People.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'd like to thank the many of you who offered to be my beta. I was **amazed** by the number of offers. It literally took me a whole day of checking out people's profiles, reading their own stories or reviews people had given them, even emailing a few until I could decide. To those who I didn't choose, please don't be discouraged – I had a huge choice and it wasn't easy. Anyway, I'd like to introduce and thank my two betas who have done a great job. This quick update wouldn't be possible without their help. Brian64 and Sweartoad, you rock!

About the Shakespeare quote - don't worry if you don't get it. It just struck me (I've studied the play in the past, so I understand its context) while I was writing this chapter . It sums up quite a bit about this chapter and the next. If you do get it, or you have ideas, I'd love to read in your review what you think was running through my mind!


	4. Nesting

**Chapter Three – Nesting**

Jake did not go far, and was returning with his catch – a small flying creature that would serve a party of ten for a day. The Na'vi eat when hungry and when there is food, and they had no issues about eating meat in the morning. Guessing Neytiri would have brought the little boy and his family to his usual eating place, he guided his ikran to land on a nearby tree. He ended Tsahaylu, slipped down to the ground and strode quickly through the forest.

A fire burnt in the pit. Neytiri had been successful, as seven sat around the fireplace, clearly waiting for him, probably having seen him fly over. Jake noticed Norm and Neytiri, but he did not recognise the others.

The little boy launched himself at Jake, running around him, poking the catch eagerly. "You knew I was hungry, olo'eyktan!" he cried in delight, pulling Jake to the fire. "You will eat with us!"

Jake laughed, laying the animal on a leaf and pulling out his knife to gut it. "What is your name, 'evi?" he asked the boy, who was no taller than his hip.

The boy crouched beside him. "They call me Ote'lo," he said.

Jake couldn't remember where, but the name sounded very vaguely familiar. Jake couldn't ever remember meeting anyone with that name, and felt himself frowning. His nose wrinkled at the smell of fresh blood as he worked, but his thoughts were still wondering about Ote'lo. Now where had he heard that before? He obviously thought about it too long, for Ote'lo got up.

The boy obviously wanted to keep Jake's attention. "This is my mama," he said proudly, running to the woman's side. She sat holding a man who must have been her mate. The man looked weak and tired, and there was a hole in his bicep from where bullets had been gouged out to save his arm. Jake greeted them with traditional titles. "My grandmother," the boy continued, walking around to the other side of the fire, over which Jake could see two women, one old and one young, huddled together in a large shawl that hid their figures. Jake realised with surprise that it was the old woman he had comforted the night before.

"Toruk Makto," she said in a gravely voice. She got to her feet, the large shawl that covered her and the younger woman dropping to the floor.

Jake's eyes went straight to the younger woman. She sat with her knees up, curled over herself, yet it did not disguise the swollen belly that she sought to protect. She eyed Jake with a suspicious glare. She was by Na'vi standards possibly one of the most beautiful women Jake had ever seen, if he'd never seen Neytiri before. Her eyes were large and pale gold, her skin clear and a rich blue, dotted with brightly glowing spots in neat patterns. Her limbs were smooth, her hair long and adorned with bright red feathers.

The old woman had not missed his stare. "This is Hnene," she said, bending over to wrap the shawl around the girl, swiftly covering her body from his gaze.

Jake looked down, his breath catching, focusing on preparing the food. Yet his mind was reeling.

A pregnant Na'vi woman!

He peered out of the corner of his eye. Neytiri seemed to be ignoring him. Norm was looking at Hnene with a look that bordered on desperation. If Jake had never seen a pregnant Na'vi woman before, Norm certainly hadn't either. He probably wished he could interrogate her.

"Hnene's mate is dead," Ote'lo said in a carrying whisper. "The Tawtute killed him, and then we banished the Dreamwalkers. That was before you came."

Jake snuck a glance at Hnene. In her face there were lines of sadness and anger. She stared into the fire, her jaw tight.

"My sister doesn't talk now," Ote'lo said, helping Jake wrap slices of the meat and place it in the coals. "Her tummy is fat. I think she's dying." He whispered this last part, his voice thick. The little boy was clearly distressed.

Jake's attention went back to the little boy. Did Ote'lo not realise that his elder sister carried a child? Or – Jake glanced over the flames, but Hnene was still covered with the shawl – perhaps she _was_ sick. Maybe Jake was wrong. She wasn't _hugely_ swollen – if she were human she'd appear to just be showing. But all Na'vi people other than her were trim by fact of their lifestyle - he'd never seen a Na'vi person look like this. Clearly Hnene was different, but was she pregnant? For all he knew Na'vi laid eggs! It could be a tumour or another illness. There was no reason to think that she was pregnant.

Except she _looked_ it. Her skin glowed, her eyes were bright. She did not look sick.

He shot a look at Norm, who still looked tortured.

Perhaps Hnene _was _dying.

"Why is she big?" Jake asked Ote'lo.

Ote'lo shook his head, bewildered. "Mama won't tell me. She was gone many months, and came out of the forest today, all big. 'Hnene should not be here,' they say to me, 'Hnene should be out there, with Eywa. Olo'eyktan, can you help her?"

Jake couldn't look at the boy's face.

When the food was ready, Ote'lo jumped to the other side of the fire pit with packages in his hands. His grandmother took hers eagerly, but Hnene turned her head away silently.

"Sister," Ote'lo said, "won't you have some? Share with all of us."

Hnene looked at Norm. Her eyes took in his khaki pants and boots with disgust. Norm paused in eating, looking embarrassed. "No," she said. "If the demon eats it, the food must be poison."

The others were surprised to hear her speak.

"These are not demons," grandmother said quietly, taking a parcel and pressing it into Hnene's hands. "Olo'eyktan brought it. Did you not listen to all I told you?"

"This is madness," Hnene said, pushing off the shawl. She lurched to her feet. Jake's eyes locked on her belly. It was taut – definitely not fat. Something was in there. She wobbled, then strode over to Norm, glaring down at him. "Your people killed my mate," she hissed. She flung a finger in Jake's direction. "It seems to me - I, who have been with Eywa alone all these months - that insanity has taken over the Omaticaya!"

Ote'lo tugged on Hnene's tail. She pushed him off. "Sister, everything is different!" Ote'lo cried. "Jakesully became Omaticaya. I told you, he is the one who is Toruk Makto. He _saved_ us, sister!"

"If he was a good olo'eyktan," Hnene said darkly, drawing herself up to her full height, "and a real Omaticaya, he would banish all the Tawtute, _especially_ the Dreamwalkers. They bring nothing but trouble!"

Neytiri leapt to her feet. The forest rung out with the sound of her slapping Hnene squarely across the cheek.

"You have been in the forest for a long time," she said dangerously to Hnene.

Hnene hissed, baring her teeth. With a whip of her tail she turned and stalked out of the clearing.

"Should we -" Norm began, starting to get up.

"She needs to be alone," grandmother said, waving everyone down. Neytiri, Jake, Ote'lo and Norm all sat slowly.

"She shouldn't have come," Ote'lo's father grumbled unhappily. "She should be out in the forest with Eywa."

"Her mate is dead," Ote'lo's mother said with a sad shake of her head. "No woman should have to suffer what she has alone. The world has changed quickly, leaving her behind."

"What happened to her?"

Jake shot Norm a warning look. You didn't just ask questions like that! But Norm was looking at Ote'lo's parents with earnest curiosity.

The woman hesitated. "After her mate died, Hnene had to go," she said. "To be with Eywa. _He_ should have accompanied her, but the Tawtute had killed him. It has driven her into madness – she returned too early."

"What will happen to her now?" Norm asked.

The couple glanced at each other.

"She refuses to go back," Ote'lo's grandmother said. "Madness. And everyone can see it." She shook her head angrily.

"Is she dying?" Jake asked.

Ote'lo's eyes shot to his parents. The couple looked shocked.

"Dying?" grandmother said with bark of laughter. She looked at her grandson shrewdly. "Come here, 'evi," she said, opening her arms. He ran into them, and she held the little boy to her chest.

"Hnene is not dying," she said. "_You_ are going to be an uncle."

Ote'lo wrinkled his nose in confusion. "I'm ..." he paused. "Did she go into the forest to find a baby?"

All the adults attempted to hide smiles.

"Yes," his grandmother said with a smile. "But babies have to grow. It takes a long time, and a mother needs to be in the forest so that the baby learns to love Eywa."

"Did you find _me_ in the forest?" he asked his mother.

"Yes," his father answered. "And you were very hard to catch!"

"I don't remember that," Ote'lo said, frowning.

"Of course not, little one," grandmother said.

"Grandmother," he said after a moment, "where is Hnene's baby? Did she lose it? Did she get hurt – is that why she's big and crazy now?"

Jake covered his mouth, stifling laughter. Secretly, he was curious about how the Omaticaya's views on pregnancy differed to humans. Dr Grace's book had had an extremely small chapter on mating rituals – the only chapter he had skipped, too embarrassed and confused by his feelings at the time. Now, he wished he'd read the chapter and taken notes. His cheeks felt uncharacteristically hot all of a sudden. He tried to look disinterested, lest Neytiri was watching him.

"All mothers take great care of their children, Ote'lo," grandmother admonished. "It is Eywa's gift to them. So they carry their baby as close as they can, shielded from all bad things, until it is safe for them to come out. Hnene's baby is inside her."

Ote'lo's face twisted in disgust. "_Inside?_ How? _Why?" _His eyes grew wide, "Can she _feel _it?" He shuddered. "I don't know why anyone would have a baby that way!"

"You turned out alright," his mother reminded him mildly. Ote'lo looked contrite, and busied himself by finishing his food.

Neytiri rose to her feet. "We should leave," she said. "Thank you for sharing this meal with us. We will leave the rest for your family. May Eywa be with you."

"It is us who will thank you," grandmother said, getting up to run a leathery hand down Jake's forearm. "Excuse our crazy daughter."

"Is there anything we can –" Jake began, but Ote'lo's father stopped him.

"You have already done too much this day, olo'eyktan," the man said, his chin lifting him to a level of pride his legs could not. "Ansit and I, we are much grateful."

"Promise you'll come again," Ote'lo demanded.

"You are welcome to share all meals with us, 'evi, and your family," Neytiri assured the boy, giving his parents a meaningful stare.

As they left the clearing, Jake walked with a spring in his step. "So what good deed shall we do next?" he half-joked.

"Well, you can organise the families of the clan in the Nest," Neytiri said seriously. . "That boy – his father is a great warrior. They should not be sleeping in the bushes like a pa'li."

The Omaticaya had several loosely defined caste systems, all of which had been given their own areas of Hometree and the surrounding area to inhabit. It was a transient social system – a good hunt, or the loss of a loved one could move a family from their post to another. The politics surrounding it were complex and not easily understandable. It wasn't that all the strong got to live in the highest parts of the tree, but neither were the weak and poor shunned or cared for openly. And sometimes – as obviously had been the case for the last few nights, and often after ceremonies – people would sleep at the first place they found.

It was lucky, in a way that he was olo'eyktan – it afforded him _some_ security in that he would not be subject to all this moving himself. His sleeping place was located as close to the middle of the tree as possible, so that he could easily access any place he wished to visit.

"Will you help me?" he asked her.

She shook her head and leant close to his ear. "Norm wishes to speak to you, and I will give him his chance."

He blinked, glancing over his shoulder. Norm was following them at a distracted pace, pushing aside plants in a way that only made them flip back and smack his back and legs. Jake pretended not to see, giving Neytiri a quizzical look.

"You want me to babysit him," he said.

"See you Jake, Norm," she said, ignoring him and disappearing through a fern.

"Where'd she go?"

Jake paused, waiting for Norm to catch up. "I'm not her keeper," he laughed. "She does what she wants."

"Yeah..." Norm was distracted again. Jake saw his lips were turned down, twisted by the same expression he had been giving Hnene back in the clearing.

"I don't get it," Jake said, switching to English, probing Norm's emotions. "Na'vi pregnancies seem ... exactly like humans."

That snapped Norm out of it. His face was back to exasperated, frustrated. The same emotion that had Neytiri smacking him upside the head and calling him skxawng. "It's not!" Norm said, throwing his arms into the air, "It's completely different! Didn't you even _glance_ at those anatomy pictures in Dr Grace's book?"

"Yeah," Jake said. "They got, um ... three lobbed brains – "

"_Lobed,"_ Norm corrected. "Go on, " he added impatiently.

"A carbon skeleton- "

"Carbon _reinforced_."

"Yeah, that," Jake said, looking at his own hand as if the answers would magically appear there. "Three fingers, bendy big toes – that'd be handy... Don't I have a six part heart or something?"

Norm rolled his eyes. "What do you remember about reproductive organs?"

Jake looked at the ground. The leaf-litter suddenly seemed _very_ exciting. Had he seen that orange one before?

"God, you're like a twelve–year old!" Norm complained.

"I found practical experience to be more valuable," Jake said with a smirk.

Norm's cheeks darkened.

"It looks different," Norm muttered.

"Bigger," Jake said, the smirk so big he could feel it in his ears.

"But the –"

"Oh please stop," Jake said, putting his hands up in surrender. "What am I missing here? What should stop me from thinking that Hnene's pregnancy is not at all like a human girl's? 'Cause from what I see, she's got it all – big tummy, _mood swings ..."_

"They get pregnant by choice."

"I've had girlfriends who chose to _not_ get knocked up. Same difference, Norm."

"No, what I mean is ... have you seen any tampax around?"

Jake crossed his arms. "Oh, yes, of course; every day I wake up, I go looking for them," he said sarcastically.

"Har-har," Norm said.

"So... they just decide one night, 'this is the night' and then it just... happens?" Jake said slowly.

"Not quite, but that's the gist," Norm said. "It's part of the same thing as to why they have life mates. The reason why any species would mate for life comes down to two categories – they either breed very prolifically, or the rearing of the young takes an inordinate amount of time. With the Na'vi, it's the second – like humans, it takes them between twenty and twenty five years to mature. But it's also the bond. The bond between life-mates, and the parents with the child ... it's very strong." Norm was looking up through the canopy. "Doctor Grace was on the brink of discovering more about all this, just before she and the others were banished. It's kind of a well-kept secret. The last thing she found out was that they can only get pregnant during the months that Alpha Centauri A's in the sky. Those months are the rainy season."

Jake remembered this. The Pandoran forest had two main seasons – wet and dry. The rainy season was normally hot and humid, with afternoon or evening thunderstorms. It was also the time when plants and animals bloomed and bred. The dry season, which was the only he'd experienced in his three months there, was full of clear, crisp air, fog and dew.

"So... Hnene must be at least ..."

"Four months," Norm said with a shrug, "could be more. It's not like I got to ask her." Then he whispered, "She's beautiful, huh?"

"Crazy to boot." Jake saw Norm's eye twitch at this. "Wait ... do you – " he looked back the way they'd come. He glanced back at Norm's mortified expression suspiciously. "Geez... you sure know how to pick 'em."

"What? She's everything the Na'vi stand for..."

"They were calling her crazy, not me," Jake said.

"Yeah, well, she lost her husband, didn't she? Imagine if it were you, knowing you were going to be a single mother –"

"I'd rather not," Jake said with a smile.

"Oh shut up!" Norm pushed past. "I shouldn't have said. I just thought, well – " he glared at Jake over his shoulder, "if anyone was going to understand, it was you."

Jake leapt after Norm, catching his shoulder. "Hey man, I was just poking fun. So - you and Hnene?"

"I just met her," Norm said. He shrugged Jake's hand off.

Jake began to walk again, Norm falling into step beside him, his boots making unnecessary noise on the dewy ground, as if the soles of his shoes could find out every dry twig or leaf and make them crackle. It was an awkward not-silence.

"Well, you've got plenty of time," Jake said with a stab of light-heartedness. "It's... um, five months. Plenty of time to become an Omaticaya man _and..."_

"Don't say woo, I beg you," Norm said in a strangled voice. "Besides, Na'vi women are pregnant roughly eleven months."

"I thought you said you didn't know much about it," Jake joked. "Wait. _Eleven –_ that's practically a year!"

"Earth year," Norm reminded him.

"Yeah, whatever," Jake said, waving his hand dismissively.

"It's because of the carbon shell."

"The what?"

"Do you know what a uterus is?"

"You sound like Coach in tenth grade."

"Well, it's the - "

"I _know_ what it is," Jake said.

"Well ... Na'vi don't have it the same as humans do, well, not exactly," Norm said. "It's like it kind of grows, but it's made out of carbon fibre, which is really strong, and semi hard, and because it's like that it takes extra long _–_ plus, Na'vi are bigger, so even though their babies are small in comparison, it's still more flesh, so the gestation would have to be longer even without the - "

"What the hell is gestation?"

"Pregnancy, geez."

Jake started to walk faster. He didn't like where this took his mind. On Earth, it would have been grow up, get a job, get married, have kids. A person in their thirties who hadn't followed this pattern would be viewed as odd; a failure. The wheelchair had put a cap on the last two ideas, and then his world had literally changed.

Instinct told him that yes, one day, he wouldn't mind a little one to care for. Instinct was very strong. It demanded the image in his head to become reality. The image of tiny legs, tiny hands, high pitched laughter, Neytiri's eyes and full of all the pride Jake would have for it. And how could Jake trust that it wasn't Eywa soundlessly ordering him to complete the balance?

But Jake wasn't ruled simply by instincts. Sense told him that it was all wrong. Not the whole "one day" idea, but that stupid caveman in the back of his head wanting to run away with Neytiri _now,_ wanting to see her like Hnene. Besides the fact that, according to what Norm had said, it wouldn't be possible for another three months, it really was the wrong time. The Omaticaya would be rebuilding their lives and they _needed_ their olo'eyktan to watch over them.

If there was one thing that Jake had had his whole life, it was a strong sense of duty. As a child, it had been to his brother and his family. Later, duty to his country drove him towards the heights of being a marine. Duty to memories brought him here to Pandora. Duty to the Omaticaya led him to leap onto the back of a toruk. A fantasy didn't undo his nature. Maybe, in the future, he'd have the courage to speak to Neytiri about what she wanted. For now, sense ruled.

This chain of thought had led him to the Nest. A group of four horsemen slowed as they passed.

"I see you, olo'eyktan," called the foremost one, who Jake recognised as the wrestler, Nguran. The warrior had a cheerful disposition, pausing to grip Jake's hand and to smile in his face. "Hunt with us," he invited. He nodded his head at Norm, "You can come too, even. If you ride."

Jake returned the greeting. "But I have things to do this day," Jake said with regret, clapping a hand on the pa'li. "Besides, I have already hunted, and shared my food."

Nguran chuckled, "Ah, of course. I will bring something back for you, yes?"

Jake grasped Nguran's hand, and, giving it a firm shake and looking him in the eye, agreed. Nguran took back his hand, flexing it, unused to the human custom of shaking hands. He yelled to the others, and the hunting party galloped off.

"So ... today we are dorm masters," Jake laughed. "How should I do this?"

"Start from the top," Norm suggested,

"Or the bottom?"

"Top," the two said together. As one they headed for the nearest root to ascend the tree. Jake leapt, not noticing the hand he used to push off a branch, the way his toes dug into the grooved wood and slick moss. Norm, like a blue slug, gripped the trunk with all limbs and attempted to move forward.

"Wait, wait," Jake said, pointing at Norm. "This is all wrong." Norm stopped, resting on the trunk.

"First of all, take your shoes off," Jake instructed.

"Won't it hurt?" Norm said, nevertheless sliding to the ground and reaching for his laces.

"Yes," Jake said, "at first." He frowned at Norm's pants. "We're going to have to get rid of those too," he said, gesturing to the offending items.

"Uh..." Norm looked unwilling.

"Don't you want Hnene to see your sexy legs?" Jake taunted.

"Shut up."

Jake waited while Norm removed his shoes, shoving his socks into the toes, tying the laces together and hanging them around his neck. As a last touch, Norm rolled the legs of his trousers till they hung just below his knees. He stood up, toes curled as if trying to get away from the ground. "Well?" Norm said, patting down his clothes.

"Put your toes down," Jake advised.

Norm sighed, and firmly planted his feet. His brows raised, he lightly shook his head in exasperation, waiting for further instruction.

Jake jumped down. "Okay, use your toes to dig into these grooves, here ..." He slowly did the actions as he spoke, Norm copying him. "The tail's not for decoration – point it out – kinda curl it – yeah, like that, and then – push - "

Together they leapt up onto the trunk. Norm let out a hoot. "Think I can manage for now, thanks," he said.

Jake closed his mouth and continued to climb. He thought that it'd be better let Norm figure it out, despite the occasional whispered mild swearing behind him. When they got to the stage where climbing between branches was imperative, Jake wordlessly slowed his pace, exaggerated his movements, and occasionally hung a hand below him for Norm to grab onto.

His mind still buzzed from Tsahaylu. It wasn't that he'd learnt to ignore it, but that it was more like they were his own subconscious thoughts. A hunter's wish for good luck made _him_ wish for the hunter's good luck, a woman's hope for her wounds to heal made him wish it also. Occasionally his vision would seem fuzzy around the edges as a particularly coherent thought flashed across his mind, but other than that, he wasn't in danger of plummeting to his death from distraction. They reached the highest levels of dwelling in good time, considering Norm's tree-climbing skills ,and Jake concentrated on the task at hand.

The first group they had to evict – if it could be called that, for the tenants were all too eager to do as told – were a family of two girl-children, plus their eight cousins, all women, and aunts. There was only one man, a brawny elder who didn't seem to believe his eyes. Jake asked one of the women to find the family who'd been in the highest reaches of Hometree, a family with ten hunters who would need easy access to their ikrans which perched in the highest branches.

And so their day progressed. If a family had to be moved, one of them would go and find the family best suited to their old place, and then Jake would accompany the rest of the evicted family to their new home. Of course, this meant that a large party would constantly follow Jake and Norm. Jake took the opportunity to talk to his people, face to face. He learnt endless names, which he knew he would struggle to remember. He found out about the shortage of certain species, which as olo'eyktan he would have to prohibit people from hunting until it was able to repopulate itself. He heard of the vast quantities of a plant from which the Na'vi made their cloth growing to the west. A village of over two hundred inhabitants has many subtle politics, concerns and needs. If Jake had been focused on simply shuffling people from here to there, it may have taken half the day or so to organise the dozens of families – but the conversations lengthened the process. It was touching darkness by the time he was on the last ring of caverns.

A young hunter was hanging around the lip of his sleeping place. "Olo'eyktan," he called, "I see you!"

"What is the matter?" Jake said after he'd approached and greeted the young man.

"I had heard you were coming this way – there is something the children have found. You must come see."

Jake followed him into the young man's sleeping place, which was cramped, glowing pale peach with the bioluminescent sponge that covered every surface. Like a giant worm's borehole, the sleeping area tunnelled into the heart of the tree, narrowing to a point. Jake's ears pricked. Could he hear talking?

Three children suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

Jake pulled back, gaping.

The smallest, a girl barely beyond crawling, giggled and slipped back through the pink sponge. The other two were panting and laughing, and took a moment to notice that their clan leader was crouched, astounded, in the tiny space before them. "Hello," one sang.

"Where did you guys come from?" Jake asked.

"From the tunnel," they answered, giggling again and disappearing. Jake crawled forward, reaching out a hand.

The pink sponge pulsed slightly at his touch – but instead of flattening against wood behind it, it retracted. Jake realised with surprise that it was a hole that the sponge's feathery edges hid. He pressed harder, his hand disappearing through it, then his arm.

Something grabbed his fingers and tugged. Jake pulled back, and there was giggling on the other side. Jake shuffled himself forward on his hands and knees, and without further ado, closed his eyes and stuck his head through.

He opened his eyes when a tiny finger poked his nose. "What _are_ you doing, olo'eyktan?" said one of the children.

Jake's eyes went beyond the three children, his breath hitching.

Hometree had had a huge inner spiral. Jake had simply assumed, just like he'd assumed the Nest was a different species, that this tree did not have any such structure. But he was wrong. A huge cavern in the centre of the tree was laid out before him, stretching up and down. The children were perched on a ledge. Jake slowly slipped through the sponge until he was sitting beside the three little ones. He sat there, staring in amazement.

The wall was dotted with hundreds of glowing pink sponge windows, some big and some small, all lighting the entire area so that it appeared like the insides of a weird giant shell. The inner spiral wound up and down, connected to the spiral path on the wall by spindly off-shoots. Above, the damage that had happened long ago was clear – many levels of what had once been the spiral had crashed down, forming a thick tangle, which morphed up, in the shadows, to the platform on which the Omaticaya now worshiped. Below, there was a similar tangle, but Jake could see glimpses of light which flickered, no doubt the reflections of the last light of the day off the waters of the lake. The children ran off, up and around on the spirals.

"Outstanding," he breathed.

"Jake?" Norm's muffled voice called through the sponge. "Where'd you go?"

"Go through the wall!" Jake called back. "You won't believe what these kids found!"

A few moments later Norm and the young hunter squeezed through the sponge, looking back with disconcertment in their eyes. It looked like they'd come through a solid surface. Norm patted the sponge, muttering, "Grace'd want samples." His tone was grave, nostalgic.

Jake stood up and carefully scuttled across the nearest twist of wood onto the centre spiral. He ran upwards, darted back to the outer perimeter, and poked his head through another hole of pink sponge.

The family screamed upon seeing his disembodied head. "Calm, People, it is Jake Sully, olo'eyktan," he said, laughing. "Come see what we found!"

Slowly they slipped through, as amazed as he was by the mysteries of their new home. Soon, many families were inside the huge cavern, exploring with their faces full of happiness. Jake felt his heart swell. It was beautiful, but even more so with the Omaticaya bringing it to life. He eventually found the window that led to his and Neytiri's sleeping place. He took a strand of his beads and hung it next to the window so he would be able to recognise it. Then he slipped through to the outside, intent on finding Neytiri to show her.

There was a spring in his steps as he realised that this would perhaps mean that tonight's prayers would be full of joy.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hnene is pronounced, to the best I can describe, "Hnn -en –ay". The "Hn" consonant is not listed in the official Na'vi phonetics guide – I stole it from Jonathan Swift's "Gulliver's Travels". I'm sure, had the people making Avatar thought of it, they'd agree with me it's an interesting sound, and worthy of the Na'vi tongue. And if you're familiar with Part IV of Gulliver's Travels, you'll recognise this consonant from the name of the Houyhnhnms – and you'll understand the parallels between that story and Jake's. Ote'lo is of course a twisting of "Othello", the Shakespearian play I quoted from in the last chapter.

Gosh, this plus the Shakespeare quote before and you guys must think me a literary buff. I'm not really, but I do like to show I'm not totally pulling things out of my arse! Plus, I like connecting things. Goes with the whole idea of "universal themes" - which I think Avatar is the epitome of!

For fan fiction discussions (including some great ideas about Na'vi genetics and reproduction), fic recommendations, official wallpapers, links to resources and heaps more, go to http:// au dot groups dot yahoo dot com /group/AvatarFanfics


	5. Signs

**Chapter Four – Signs**

Neytiri could not be found anywhere, and it made Jake anxious. As he'd told Norm, he did not expect to know where she was every moment of every day, but he found it odd that not one person seemed to know where their princess had gone. It was almost dark – not that Neytiri would be in any danger if it was – but it meant he'd not seen her since they had parted ways that morning.

He decided to go to Mo'at. He could tell from the noise in his head alone that she would be at the seedling . Many would come to be with Eywa tonight. Already pink spots danced at the edges of his vision as his people marvelled at their new home. It was twinged with longing for Kelutrel, and his heart ached with _their_ sadness that dead warriors and family would not be able to see it. His ears twitched as he tried to figure out if the singing he heard was through the Tsahaylu or actually drifting down through the branches. He tried to understand the words, a song he'd only heard a few times before. The song spoke of beauty, of storms, of the tiniest seed growing into the biggest tree in the forest, a monument to Eywa. Eventually he was at the platform, and he could discern Mo'at's voice.

Jake held a hand to his head. At least half the clan were already seated, and sitting so close meant the strength of Tsahaylu was much higher. Jake didn't know much – or anything really – about brains, but he imagined his to be going off like fireworks. Without realising when he began, without even having learnt the words, he found himself singing along. Unable to bear the idea of actually forming a Tsahaylu with his queue, he sunk into a crouch in a small alcove at the edge of the congregation, eyes closed, ears as closed as he could make them, taking shallow breaths through his mouth. His own senses were getting confused with the hundred and fifty others he was connected to. It was lucky that their hearts all synced when connected to Eywa, otherwise his heartbeat would be all over the place. While anyone who'd formed Tsahaylu with another was in full control of their own body, it was very easy to get caught up in their feelings. Jake had a hundred, and so it was a struggle to just concentrate on his breathing.

It felt like many more were joining. His eyes stinging, Jake lifted his head.

Only ten or so people remained. Mo'at was farewelling them, telling them to go to the largest fire pit to share a meal. Jake staggered to his feet, not understanding why if felt like he had two clan's worth of Tsahaylus in his mind. His feet carried him across to the seedling, where Mo'at was seated.

"You have come too early," Mo'at said, running a finger down a new. "Come back after tomorrow night."

"I ..." Jake said in a hoarse voice, gathering his thoughts to speak, "Where is Neytiri?"

Mo'at stood up. "If she has not told you then it is not my place to say," she said, striding across the platform.

Jake followed after a moment. "Has – I mean, when will she come back?"

Mo'at raised a hand in farewell, leaving him without answering his question.

Jake wasn't sure what to do. The Tsahaylu ebbed, like waves upon a shore. He knew if he could find Neytiri, she would know what to do, how to quieten the sound.

He decided that he should honour Nguran's offer to share his meal. If Neytiri had been hunting, she would need to do something with her catch, so the best place to find her would be near a fireplace. Besides, it was only polite.

Nguran was using the largest fire pit, situated on an outcrop of smooth sandstone to the northern side of the lake, its edges crept upon by scaled vines. He had the company of about forty and smiled and waved Jake to sit beside him. Nguran's catch was impressive, and of course well cooked. Jake was quickly served, the conversation continuing without him. Jake chewed slowly, unwillingly. He was beginning to realise that he wasn't hearing live thoughts. Much like the Tree of Voices, what he felt now was the backlash, a reverb of emotion. He could place people's faces with their thoughts. Their expressions in the firelight appeared different, more aware, than the information that washed around his head painfully. He ate little and answered negative to questions about Neytiri. He looked around at his people and wondered if they could ever be healed of the wounds the Tawtute had given them; not their physical wounds, but the hole in their hearts.

He sighed, looking up at the Nest. He knew from the Tsahaylu that they loved their new home. In as many ways as it was different, it was good for them. They were beginning to bond with the Nest, their hope and love for the seedling growing. One day it would be a new Tree of Voices. The Nest was fast becoming a spiritual centre as well as a home, making it all the more precious.

As soon as he could, Jake left. Although he'd worn a calm face for his companions at the meal, he was still worried. It was not like Neytiri to just disappear. As he slipped into the inside spiral of the Nest and made his way up to his sleeping place, he tried to think of where she would go. Hunting? But that did not make sense.

As he ascended, the Tsahaylu suddenly sparked with live thoughts. The old echoes faded, and Jake exhaled with relief, digging a hand into the wall for balance.

From the strength of the voices, they must have been up at the seedling, and as far as he could tell, there were two. The loudest one was a wordless ball of grief, anger and regret. The other was as familiar as his own mind, and Jake began to run, impatient to see Neytiri.

He stood at the edge of the platform when he arrived, letting her and the other woman with her have their peace. With surprise he recognised the form of Hnene beside Neytiri, sitting close enough that their knees touched, which he thought unusual because he'd gotten the impression Neytiri did not particularly like the rude pregnant woman. It was Hnene's thoughts that roiled with unspent passion. They lacked coherency, and Jake was willing to bet that Hnene herself did not know how to feel.

Jake carefully reached through the Tsahaylu towards Neytiri. He'd never done it to another person because he was sure it would be a gross violation of privacy. With Neytiri it was different: they were already bonded as tightly as two people could be. She acknowledged his presence with a thought that was like a smile. Brushing her fingers down Hnene's tense arm, she disconnected from the seedling and stood up. Jake stepped forward to meet her. Each placed a hand on the other's cheek in unspoken greeting.

"Oel ngati kameie," Neytiri whispered, resting her cheek against his. Jake answered as the same, and she slowly, reluctantly pulled back, turning to Hnene who was rising to her feet.

"Someone will come to you," Neytiri told her. Hnene shot a resentful glare at Jake before leaving at a pace as close to stomping as a Na'vi could muster. When she was out of sight and hearing, Jake twisted his fingers with his mate's. She turned to him. "Hnene is like a lost child," she said.

They began to head in the direction of their sleeping place. "Where were you today?" Jake asked.

"With Hnene," she answered. "Trying to clear her eyes. But she has been heartsick for six months." Neytiri shook her head. "It is difficult for those of us who can See to watch one of our sisters or brothers so lost. There is anger in her... and I am angry because she is stubborn."

Jake slowed by one of the holes that let to the Nest's internal structure. "Come," he said, pulling her through.

Neytiri gasped as they walked out onto the ledge. With a laugh she lightly ran to the inner spiral, tugging Jake along. Her joy was clear on her face, and Jake could not help but laugh along with her. He showed her the way to their sleeping place, and they curled up on the soft sponge, looking out at the indigo night. The top canopy rustled and swayed, pierced every now and then by the chuckle of prolemuris and nantang, the whistling of small creatures, the _bpom bpom bpom_ of the animals that lived in the mud at the edges of the lake.

Jake sat with his arms over Neytiri's shoulders as she lay against him. "Norm's got a thing for Hnene," he told her.

"A thing? What thing?"

Jake chuckled. Most of the time, Neytiri's understanding of English was superb, much better than his Na'vi. He held her hand. "Not an object. I meant, I think he likes her. As in, ro-_man_-tically_._"

Neytiri tilted her head. "Before she was life-mated, Hnene was the most beautiful Na'vi woman in all the Omaticaya, and many young men wanted her. Would Norm fall in love with just a face?"

Jake shrugged one shoulder. "I've only known him a few months ... but he doesn't seem the type."

Neytiri looked out at the forest once again. "I will send Norm to her tomorrow," she said decisively. "I cannot change how she sees with words, but perhaps Norm's ... special type of grace will show her."

Jake bent over to peer into her face. "Did you just make a joke?" he laughed.

Neytiri smiled.

Jake's hand trailed up her arm to her face, and their lips met. She turned in his embrace to face him, holding him. Touching her was fire and ice, torture and comfort, give and take. She curled around him. All the sensations from the Tsahaylu with the People were dampened, flooded over by everything that was Neytiri. It had not been that long since they had been this close, and yet it felt like much longer.

The world exploded into colour as they bonded. He could feel her – her heartbeat, her fingertips. Was it him or her that made his tail coil? She was him and he was her. They were one.

He felt Neytiri encounter the Tsahaylu he had with the rest of the world. With careful guiding of her thoughts she showed him how to focus, how to use it like he did his ears, to hear all at once but only listen to what he wanted to. She batted away the echoes. And now, with her help, he focused on her, only her, and he knew she was beautiful in that moment – that _they_ were beautiful together.

As they lay in each other's arms afterward, Neytiri spoke.

"You should not worry that my feelings are not the same," she whispered. "If it were possible now, I would honour Eywa with a Na'vi child." She looked fierce. "It will be a good time for new life."

Jake's arms tightened. It was best to be blunt. "You do want to have a child with me?"

Her hands held his face. "I would not be like Hnene," she said, allaying a fear he hadn't even been aware of having. "I would have you to help me, and Eywa."

"But why is Hnene ... why did nobody go with her? Do all the women need to be abandoned? It doesn't seem safe. It'd be better if she had stayed at Hometree," he said in a rush.

Neytiri sighed. She sat up slowly, pushing her braids back. Then she spoke without looking at him. "When the first Dreamwalker came to us ... and it told us that it was part Tawtute ... we thought it had been made against Eywa. Some of our people had disappeared over the years – including females, including a newly mated one ... we thought," Neytiri shook her head, disgust clearly on her face. "It is impossible for a child to be born to one who is not the life-mate, but the Tawtute had so many other horrible things with great power ... They were so good at stealing ..."

Jake's own face mirrored her disgust as he realised what she was trying to describe. "Rape," he supplied her, spitting the word. "You know that's not how it worked, right?"

Neytiri nodded. "But that was many years ago. Ever since, our women have disappeared into the forest, into Eywa's protection, just in case. We did not know how Avatars were made, but we could not risk our children ..."

She placed her chin on her knees. "At the school, they taught us about cloning. They tell us ... how two can be made from one. That is how Avatar is made. But our women wondered, where did the first come from? Would they need another? The Tawtute knew where Kelutrel was, so they would not be there."

Jake exhaled heavily. His mind filled with images of women like Hnene running off into the forest, holding their precious cargo. He didn't know either how the first Na'vi samples had been retrieved_. Had_ they used an embryo? He couldn't imagine Doctor Augustine - Norm - _his brother_ being part of something that had come from such a violation. They wanted to know about the Na'vi, not destroy them. He reached for Neytiri, wishing she could wipe the image from his mind. "I see why they were scared," he said.

"I will not hide," Neytiri said. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes reflected the soft light of the spongebed. "It is time we went back to how it was before," she stated.

Jake slowly lay down, and Neytiri joined him.

"I wondered," she said after a moment of peace, a hand curling over his collarbone, "about the clones."

"Yeah?" Jake muttered. He was beginning to feel sleepy.

"Is that how your brother ... Tomas was made?"

Jake cracked an eye and looked at her. "God, no. It just happened, like any other birth, but there were two of us instead of one." He let out a breathless chuckle. "My brother would freak if he heard you suggest we were clones ... he liked his individuality. We loved each other, but ... he would never have become a warrior in a million years."

Neytiri curled closer, her breathing slowed, and soon enough Jake too was asleep.

_He dreamt of a crimson sky, a golden hue over every plant, and a bruised cloud sitting on the horizon, rumbling. He ran and ran, but he was lost. He knew he was looking for something that had been stolen from him, something important. His life would end if he did not find it._

_A bundle, on the floor. He didn't want to go near it. He knew he had to, but he didn't want to see –_

_A tiny body. Tiny hands and feet, short tail. A baby boy. The child was still, lax. Jake held it awkwardly, shaking it roughly, the tiny head bouncing back and forth. Jake's ears pressed back against his s skull as he leant over it, listening, but know he wouldn't hear its breath._

_He stared as the child transformed into an atokirina', a seed of the sacred tree and floated away._

Jake woke, panting, in the middle of the night. He couldn't remember the dream, and luckily Neytiri slept on. He lay back down, quickly sinking back into the oblivion of sleep.

Jake was awoken by yelling. He sat up blearily, his eyes barely focused as Norm barrelled into the niche. "Jake! Jake!"

" 'ow ear-l-ly is it?" Jake yawned.

"Never mind that," Norm said, grabbing Jake's shoulders. "I've been up all night. Something's happened. Something bad."

Jake snapped awake. "What kind of bad?"

"As in RDA kind of bad."

"But they left – how many days has it been?"

Norm was pacing erratically. Although his body was fully rested, his mind was obviously not, in the way he blinked furiously and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "An ISV left just before we banished the _Venture Star." _Norm held a hand to his bandaged chest, wincing.

Jake lay back down. "You woke me up for something that's _not_ happening _now_?" He complained. "It's not going to arrive for, what, seven years? Sheesh, Norm, couldn't this have waited until after breakfast?"

When they'd banished the sky people, they'd known it wasn't the end. The RDA had a fleet of ten ISV ships, which worked on rotation. Before the Na'vi had sent the _Venture Star_ back to Earth early, there had been a system where at any one time there would be one ship orbiting Pandora, another orbiting Earth, four travelling to Pandora and four leaving, each approximately eighteen months apart.

Each ISV travelled at seventy percent the speed of light, which meant they made the journey in about six years and nine months (but of course, due to relativity, time dilated for the ship and all it carried due to its tremendous speed, meaning that the inhabitants would only experience six years).

There was little point in asking them to "turn back", because they would need to refuel at Pandora in order to do so. Each ship only carried enough for a trip from Pandora to Earth and then back again, meaning that on the way to Pandora they were on the lower end of their supply. Besides, ISVs were not exactly manoeuvrable – they were more like a glorified "point and shoot" capsule, using the gravitational pulls of astral bodies to 'dock' into orbit at their destinations. The crew were a safety measure, not pilots. All ships had started their trip before the eviction of the RDA from Pandora would be arriving as scheduled, there was no question.

It was not a pleasant thought to Jake to think that in almost fifteen months time, just over a Pandoran year, he would have to deal with the first of many threats to the Na'vi people. And every eighteen months, for the next seven years on the Earth calendar, he would have to do so again. Five ships. Great.

At least the crew would be arriving with the knowledge that they were not welcome. Superluminal communications had already been sent to all ships and to Earth by Parker Selfridge before he was sent away, but since then all funding had been cut and they would not be able to commune anymore – each message cost $7500 per bit of data to send. Consequently, when each ISV came to Pandora and the Valkyrie Shuttles landed at Hell's Gate, they would be 'politely' told to go back to where they'd come from. The 100 passengers on each ship would have lost fourteen and a half years of their lives by the time they got back to Earth – understandably, they could get upset.

That was not Jake's concern. His concern was that every time they arrived he'd run the risk that the ship's passengers and crew would not want to leave, and he would have to fight – his clan would have to fight – to convince the Tawtute that everything had changed since they'd gone into cryo.

"I already knew there were ships coming our way," Jake said. "And I told _you,_ that it's not our problem yet."

"No, no," Norm snapped, "you're not getting it. The catalogue arrived while we were fighting and Max was looking over it yesterday to see if there was anything him and the other Avatar drivers would want or need. It's got the usual mix – 100 passengers, weaponry, supplies. But there's this thing – and some people to go with it. They were preparing it all while we were in cryo, that's why I didn't know about it before now. They were working on it awhile and nobody thought it'd work, but they've figured out how to photosynthesise by –"

"Norm, it's early, I'm not a scientist, and I have a clan to take care of. So get to the point and get to it quickly."

"They're going to adapt Pandoran flora – I mean, plants – to an Earth atmosphere."

"And this is a problem because ... "

"Because they'd be taking Eywa to Earth."

Jake sat up slowly and frowned. He tried to picture Eywa on Earth, and couldn't. The people would not understand, not in the way the Na'vi did, and they would hack her to pieces like they had their own forests. "She would be in agony," he realised. He shook his head to clear the images. "We'll make them go away," he said simply. "They'll be the last. They know not to come back." His voice was hard.

"We must fight again?" Neytiri said softly.

"They're not getting anywhere near the forest," Jake growled. "They can take their fuel, but they're not getting anything else."

"Jake ..." Norm said slowly. His expression was strange, unreadable, and his hands twisted. "Maybe ... would it be so bad? People on Earth _could_ learn – we did. Don't ..." Norm look a deep breath, touching a hand to his wounds, "I left my parents behind. I love it here, I really do, but ... I can't not care about them. When I look around, I wish they could see all this. I know they'd appreciate it. They're stuck in a concrete life ... my sister could have kids one day ... I'd love for them to walk in a forest." Norm covered his face with a hand, "They shouldn't be allowed to take from Pandora, but what if we _gave_ them something, something to save them?

"But it's more than a giving them a forest. If they learned about Eywa, if they _really_ did, it could solve religious problems, connect people, make them understand ..."

"You're asking them to be Na'vi," Jake said gently.

"No," Norm said, slamming his hand against the wood of the tree, "I'm asking them to learn to be human again. Earth wasn't always like – I know you would have heard of the Amazon at school, gone to a garden centre, _something._" He took a moment to collect himself. "Jake, the only reason why you and me – and all the others who came to be Avatar drivers can love this forest is because Earth _should_ be like this. Maybe not the same ... but ..."

"They want rocks, Norm."

"Then we give them something better."

Neytiri stood up, catching the two men's attention. "Jake," she said, letting his name hang in the air before continuing, "Did I ever teach you to only look forwards?"

Jake stared at her. He knew she was not asking for him to answer her, that she wanted him to think, so _see. _He knew from experience that it would take time for him to fully understand.

"I'll think about it," he told both of them, standing up. "But seeing as we've got six or so years ... We've got things to do. Today. Life is now, here, and we can save the drama for later."

Neytiri's ears pricked. "Yes," she agreed, and approached Norm. "There is a package of food for Hnene. I am busy. You will take it to her?"

Norm looked confused at this change of topic. "Hnene?" he repeated, and shot a look at Jake. "Why me? She _hates_ Avatars."

"Norm," Jake spread his hands, "Who better to show her that humans are not all bad than you?"

Norm looked ready to protest, but he exhaled at last. "I won't even know where to find her."

"Jake can find her," Neytiri said.

"I could show you how to track," Jake said, his tone tantalising. Norm's resolve visibly weakened.

"Fine," he muttered. "But don't think you've outsmarted me. I know you're trying to set me up." He pushed past and squeezed through the sponge into the inner spiral.

Jake laughed. He turned to Neytiri, quickly kissing her. She told him where to pick up the package, and one by one they both went into the inner spiral. Neytiri went up, Jake and Norm going down.

At one of the fire pits a group of young Na'vi were quickly making the food packages called yom nìwin, or quick eats. They were made fast and could be eaten while travelling, sort of like a lunchbox. They consisted of a mixture of ingredients, often leftovers, such as meat, fungi, roots, leaves, berries. There were small crunchy biscuits made from crushed beans cooked on the flat stones balanced over coal pits the Na'vi used like hotplates. This was all wrapped up in dark purple leaves which were waterproof, but more importantly sterile, and edible.

Jake let Norm practise his Na'vi, telling him to wait and order while Jake scouted out the edges of the lake to see if he could find Hnene's trail. Luckily, he happened upon Ote'lo's grandmother not far from the yom nìwin makers, and she pointed him down the last trail she'd seen her granddaughter take. Jake turned back to the fire pit and grinned to see Norm's exhilarated face. He tucked the packages into the sling over his shoulder, and led the way into the forest.

"See that foot print?" Jake said. "That's hers. See how the heel is much deeper than that one over there – she's carrying more weight. That one over there is probably a young man's foot print."

Norm peered at the footprint. "Sure," he said, clearly not.

Five minutes later, Jake found a bent twig at the side of the trail. "Sniff it," he told Norm.

Norm sniffed it, eyes questioning.

"You can smell the feathers from her hair," Jake explained, "that kind of ... lemony smell? And look – " He plucked a tiny thread of red. "She definitely went off the path here."

"How did you even notice that?" Norm said, following clumsily.

"Norm, control your tail," Jake said. "Anyone could find you from the mess you're making." He continued to follow the gaps between the undergrowth that denoted where Hnene had walked. Her trail was slight – she was very good at not making many signs. "Nothing can go through a forest and make no sign. You just have to be looking to see it."

Jake finally stopped in a clearing, inspecting the trunks of trees. "You lost her?" Norm said.

He paused, peering up into the branches. Then he looked at Norm.

Hnene landed behind him with barely a whisper, touching her nails to his neck threateningly. Norm whipped around, a strangled yell escaping him, his tail whacking her in the face. He clutched his chest, the fright obviously a bit much for his healing body.

Hnene took a step back, hissing, wiping her cheek.

"My own child knows how to move through the forest better than you," she growled in Na'vi.

"Calm, Hnene," Jake said, stepping forward. "We have come with food."

"I can feed myself."

"I know," Jake said, pulling out the two largest packets, "but Neytiri sent us."

She looked ready to leave, but at last she came forward, snatching the food. Pulling herself up into a low branch, she began to open the first one.

"You're really graceful," Norm blurted. "I mean, considering you're ... with child."

Hnene gave him an infuriated look. "Insults," she muttered, gnawing on a biscuit. Jake sat cross-legged, opening his own breakfast, offering one to Norm. Norm sat with his back against a tree, looking up at Hnene.

"This is good," he said through a mouthful.

Hnene growled.

"You know, you could eat like this every day, if you move to the Nest."

She growled again and didn't talk for the rest of the meal.

Once they were finished, Jake stood up, arranging his bow. He pulled out his knife, handing it to Norm. "Right. We're going hunting. A herd went through here during the night," he said, nodding to the tree trunk he'd been inspecting before.

Norm peered. "Let me guess, the scratches in the moss?"

"See, it's not that hard," Jake said. He glanced at Hnene, who remained perching in her tree, her golden eyes watching them beadily.

"Or maybe the hoof marks you sat on," she said icily to Norm.

Norm glanced back at the floor. He laughed, embarrassed. Like a cat she leapt to the floor. "They went that way," she said, lifting her chin. "Any _Na'vi_ hunter could tell you that."

Jake was already following the path. Norm followed. Hnene paused for a couple of seconds, then jumped forwards, slapping Norm's ankles. "Hey hey, what're you doing?" he complained.

"All wrong," she growled. "Argh, you're ruining my forest."

"Your forest?"

Hnene ignored him, grabbing one ankle. "Up, point your toes ..."

She let go suddenly, shuddering. "Demon toes."

Jake sighed. "We can't help it," he told her.

She looked at Norm's toes, all five of them straight like a human's, a strange expression on her face. Then she slapped him again. "Loose toes," she commanded, "Not tight. Spread when you land." She pushed her hand behind Norm's knee. "Bend, not straight."

She continued to correct every aspect of Norm's body, finding fault in every part, seemingly angered by each thing that did not please her. Jake almost felt sorry for Norm. At least Neytiri had patience; Hnene did not. She would slap Norm hard, dig in her fingernails as she pulled each finger into what she perceived to be the correct position. Norm once crushed a small ant-like creature, and she thrust it into his hand.

"Uh..."

"The hunter's song," Jake mouthed, hoping Norm knew it.

Luckily Norm did, but he said it haltingly, looking confused as to why he had to apologise to a bug.

At last Hnene stepped back. "Now walk," she ordered.

Norm tip-toed through the forest, and Jake picked up the trail again. If he had been alone, he knew he would have found the herd within an hour. But with Hnene stopping to slap and insult Norm every ten steps, it took much longer. Once, she tugged his ears, trying to get him to listen 'properly'. Norm's face had gone from trying to understand to annoyed, but he didn't argue with her.

It was midday by the time they were crouching behind a log, looking over at the herd. Jake silently jerked his chin towards the one they were going to catch. Settling back on his heels, he strung his bow, levelled it, and heard the whisper as it was loosened. The herd broke up, escaping, as their comrade fell. The animal was not going to give up easily. As Jake jumped up, it began to display, honking angrily and thrashing. Jake crouched, letting another arrow fly. The animal's fight weakened.

Jake ran forward, waving for Norm to follow him. "Here," he ordered, showing Norm where the knife should go.

Norm shuddered as he buried the knife, his face twisted with horror, and the animal went still. Jake said the hunter's song, removing his arrows, and wiping his knife and putting it back into the sheath on his chest. He clapped a hand on Norm's shoulder, standing up and lifting the beast over his shoulders.

When they turned, Hnene was gone.

"Hnene?" Norm called. "Hello?"

"Leave her be," Jake advised. Then, he considered Norm for a moment, before heaving the carcass onto Norm's shoulders. He staggered under the unexpected weight.

"Whoa ...it's heavy," he panted.

"Are you gonna pull a stitch?" Jake asked. Norm inhaled, and shook his head.

"Nah," Norm said nonchalantly, "The quicker I build my strength the better, right?"

Jake nodded. "Now, lead us back to the Nest."

Norm started by going back the way they'd come. Jake knew it would actually be faster to go in a fairly straight line due east, but he wanted Norm to become more spatially aware. For the most part, Norm wasn't that bad. Sure, he once spent a full half hour walking in the opposite direction, but he eventually figured it out, although Jake couldn't be sure if it was his own hidden sniggers that tipped Norm off. Norm also had to stop several times, dropping the hexapede. Jake was aware that Norm was probably in more pain than he let on, but he would start again every time Jake opened his mouth to suggest he would carry the kill. Jake didn't want to disturb Norm's pride – it was an emotion he was familiar with.

They were on the home stretch, eyes on the ground in front of them, when Norm suddenly stopped. "Whoa, whoa," he was saying, and Jake followed his line of vision.

A set of palulukan tracks were clearly imprinted in the soft earth at the base of a plant shaped like a crab, so obvious even a blind person would be able to find them. Jake quickly inspected them. "Fresh," he said, ears twitching back and forth. "Shut up."

The two stood still, listening.

Jake heard a crackling behind him, and without a thought, he jumped forward, pushing Norm to the ground, turning around in the same movement with his knife drawn. The blood of their kill suddenly seemed pungent as his senses sharpened, and he realised Norm's bumbling had probably left a strong trail for the predator to track them.

It was crouched behind a bright blue jelly bush. Realising its prey knew it was there, the palulukan prowled forward, nose flaps rising, lips snarling back over its fearsome teeth.

"Why is it that whenever I'm with you in the forest this guy wants to get me?" Jake muttered to Norm.

The palulukan snarled, muscles tensing.

"Take the kill. Walk slowly backwards, and when you can't see me, run," Jake ordered. Norm scrabbled back to his feet. Jake heard his friend slowly move back, as Jake took a step forward, recapturing the predator's attention.

"Shoo, you great pussy cat," Jake hissed. Then, in Na'vi, he roared, "I am olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya. You are not welcome near my people!"

He waited for it to pounce. He did not look forward to killing it, or the risk he had of being hurt, but it was better him than any of his people. But it did not pounce.

The palulukan's nose flaps lowered, and with one last thunderous screech it turned tail and ran back into the jungle.

Jake glanced down at himself, as if still unsure he had not been touched. Yet his blue skin remained unscathed.

He quickly joined Norm, and with no nonsense they travelled back to the Nest by the quickest route. He was bothered by the unexplainable behaviour of the animal, but knew he probably wouldn't get answers. He couldn't be sure it wasn't following them, so moved at as quick a pace he could with Norm hobbling along.

Jake found Neytiri with a group of other hunters, making arrows. The toxic mix was being kept cold in the waters of the lake, with little watertight vats floating out at waist depth, strung together and acting as buoys to a net. On the shore the hunters used resin sharpened into arrowheads which were mostly flat but with slight corkscrew ridges made from a natural seed case attached to strong, yet flexible wooden shafts. They were fletched with the iridescent feathers the Omaticaya used to distinguish their arrows.

Norm dropped their kill, looking exhausted. He sat unceremoniously in the sand, rubbing his feet.

A warrior nodded at him, chuckling, "He looks like Jakesully when he first went out," he commented. There was laughter at this, even from Jake, who recognised the pathetic picture Norm made. His feet were inflamed, with tiny scratches. His muscles, while well grown, shivered from the extended exercise.

"Do not worry," Neytiri said. "The forest does not allow her people to stay soft."

"Great," Norm said without enthusiasm.

Jake knelt beside Norm, pulling out his knife. "And now the fun bit."

Norm looked green.

"Just like dissecting a frog," Jake teased in English. "Honestly, how did you pass high school biology, let alone get into _alien –_ "

Norm took the knife.

Jake demonstrated how to gut the yerik, showing him what organs could be used for what. The Na'vi did not like to waste their kills and there was a use for everything. Once Norm got the hang of skinning, Jake went off to find some frames. He came back with them, propping them in the sand, and began to stretch organs and skin to be dried. The meat would be used for that night's cooking, and Jake showed Norm how to partition the meat, wrap it in leaves, and set it in the coals to slow cook. Jake asked a group of children to keep an eye on the food, and they returned to the arrow makers, who were packing up. Neytiri had waded out with a few others, pulling in the vats and the net. It was full of creatures best described as eels, with a horizontal tail that lay flat and containing a thin translucent membrane used to propel it through the water.

A good leader is not above the people. Jake invited as many as he could to share his yerik and fish that night. As the meat cooked, the Tsahaylu rose to a crescendo of prayers. In the way Neytiri had taught him the night before, Jake was able to hear all and yet, not listen to any one individually. It was a faintly omnipresent, if not omnipotent feeling, and Jake knew, were it not for the goodness of all the souls he heard – that he _empathised_ with – he would run mad with this power.

His people kept him sane, rather than driving him insane, as he realised that being able to hear everyone's prayers was _not_ godlike, and neither was answering them. The only thing godly or holy about the whole thing was that he _could_ hear them. That was all thanks to Eywa, and so Jake was grateful. He knew he would never be able to do anything that was against the good of his people. He hadn't given up his ability to _save_ them, it seemed to him, but rather the opposite. He could save them, but with the Tsahaylu the way to do it was clearer. He couldn't be distracted from any of his tribe: they would all be equally cared for. All selfishness was impossible. _That_ is what Mo'at must have meant. Or that was the way Jake saw it.

The next day he would go to Mo'at, and finally he would be olo'eyktan in every sense of the word.

* * *

_Earth_

Donna Jones had a routine. When she woke up, she worked on autopilot. Coffee – Italian of course; clothes – designer; bag – Prada; keys, door – deadlocked; stairs – needed to keep fit. Turn left, get into a cab – a _clean_ one – where she would promptly pull out her A4 sized glassy screen, turn it on and begin to read the newspaper. She didn't like things that weren't ordinary. She was an average woman with an average life, but with an above average income, and so it wasn't that odd that she almost dropped the screen as soon as she saw the headline:

**_The New York Times_**

**_13th November 2154_**

**_Aliens Attack!_**

_Communications from the ISV Venture Star arrived today with an astounding development from the planet Pandora. In what seems to be a surprise attack, a guerrilla faction of the indigenous population – the Na'vi – have overpowered the entire operation. Led by a human deserter, Jake Sully, an ex-marine, the insurrection was masterminded while in control of an Avatar body under the pretension of working for the RDA. The attack has resulted in the expulsion of the human population from Pandora aboard the ISV Venture Star. Details are scarce on the nature of the conflict, but an initial report written by the head administrator on Pandora, Parker Selfridge, indicate that the attack was unprovoked. Included in the report are claims that a group of humans remain among the Na'vi voluntarily, although this is yet to be confirmed._

_Venture Star will return to Earth in seven years' time, at which point investigations will commence in earnest. Passengers and crew will be held in custody and interviewed in order to help clarify the situation._

_RDA shareholders have expressed anger over this latest development, and leading scientists the world over are pondering the possible implications on the future of Earth's energy supply now that the only known source of unobtanium has become the scene of such turmoil. The RDA have issued a statement claiming that they intend to send an envoy to renegotiate trading terms with the indigenes once Venture Star has returned and the causes of the situation illuminated. They are currently working on a new ISV which they claim can reach 0.86 c, which will significantly reduce travel time between Earth and Pandora by almost 2 years. [Continued page 3]_

She promptly called her finance manager. "I can see why you were avoiding me," she growled. "And you know that you're _dead."_

* * *

**Author's Note:** I got my info from pandorapedia and _Avatar: An Activist Survival Guide _(A brilliant book by the way). I have an extended AN on my profile explaining my details about the ISVs - some of which I had to work out myself.


	6. The Blue Flute

**Chapter Five – The Blue Flute **

"_Faith is being sure of what we hope for."_

Hebrews 11.1

* * *

_Haze. There is yellow sky, like butter, like Neytiri's eyes. The forest is slick, wet, golden, spores like dust motes quiver in the air. Spores They coat his lips like feathered sand, and seeds, seedlings, tiny new lifegrowth crushed under every footstep. It all blurs past. Running, running, looking for a hint of that familiar blue. All is golden, red, warm. But not comforting; like a sign of danger stamped on every leaf. He's panicking._

Keep your cool, boys. _That's what they'd said in the marines. You're not a soldier if you panic. You're a coward._

_But Jake's not a warrior today. He's fighting, but it's personal. A life hangs by a thread, out of Eywa's hands, and he's the only one who can stop it._

_Lost? Stolen? Taken? Gone, at least. Missing? All he knew was that he was trying to find it. Whatever it was – something important, something he'd give his life for. Someone?_

_He used to dream that he was flying. Now he flies._

_But the higher you fly the faster you fall._

Jake awoke early on the day that would see him finish his rite of passage to become the olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya, feeling well rested. Without waking Neytiri he got up, stretching and pulling on his ornaments. Wiping the grit from his eyes, he remembered an apartment light years away with a specialty sink hung low on the wall. There had been a metal bar on the wall next to the toilet and a chair in the shower cubicle, along with a small mirror he'd used to go about his morning rituals. A big mirror had not been needed then, because he didn't want to see himself.

He didn't have one at all now, but it wasn't because he was afraid of feeling shame. He glanced at Neytiri's belongings, hung neatly on what was called a chey, used for hanging her bow, arrows, ornaments, and knife. He had not been given one yet. And so, in the predawn glow of the bedding sponges, he slipped up the insides of the tree, up to the seedling.

There was nobody about. It almost felt like he wasn't there, his footsteps silent on the wind- and rain-smoothed wood. Suddenly gripped with a desire to see what it looked like, he pulled himself up into the towering branches, and looked down on the platform.

The countless years of the trees' growth was written in its hundreds upon hundreds of rings, which ranged in colour from cherry-wood reds, silky blond pine, ashy greys and browns, purplish tinged chocolates. Some were thick from kind seasons, others so narrow they were barely visible from times of poor rainfall or nutrients. There were rivulets in the wood caused by years of rain that had carved twirling patterns in the wood far more complex than any artist could have wrought.

Most interesting of all were a pair of thick, ghostly ridges, one on each side of the rings, about halfway out. He couldn't be sure, but Jake had a suspicion that had the tree not been broken all those years ago, these were the ridges that would have continued the spiral all the way up the rest of the tree. As it was, rain had washed away the surrounding, softer wood, leaving them behind.

He swung down from a branch, dropping down, approaching the seedling. He looked up as he did so.

The outer ring of any tree is the living part. Once the Nest had been a tall Kelutrel tree like any other, and when it had had its top half sliced off (by lightning, earth quake – who knew) it had not died. The outer ring had continued to grow up, forming new branches, and years formed more rings, strengthening the new growth. What had formed was an atrium, a natural cathedral of branches reaching up, curling over the platform in the fight for light, melding together and forming the thick canopy at the top of the tree. Arches between branches revealed vistas of the beauty of the like huge windows.

Dappled light shaded worshipers at midday. Now, as the first light touched the land, it streamed through the arches of the east, creeping across the platform. The seedling, when it was fully grown, would shine like a beacon to any travelling near the Nest at night.

Jake knelt before it.

"When I was twelve, I snuck into a church after school," he confessed. "A church is ... well, a bit like here, except ... " He sighed. How could he explain to Eywa what anything was? "Anyway. Doesn't matter. It was empty. Just me and Tom. Our parents never ... never told us to believe in anything, not even to _not_ believe in something. Tom wanted to know what the big deal was, y'know, figure it out," he laughed ruefully, "The Scientist. And me? I thought I'd feel ... something.

"I went and knelt before that altar, expecting, well ... that's the thing, wasn't it? I didn't know what you're supposed to feel. All I know is, I wasn't feeling it. But I _wanted_ to feel it. So I figured, well, there _must_ be something _to_ feel, 'cause if I could _want _to feel it, it must be there, right? I just hadn't found it yet."

Jake ran a finger over a glowing cable-like tendril.

"I never did find it, that thing they called faith. I stopped looking, after a while. I guess I figured it'd find me." He snorted, "Like that ever worked for anyone." Jake let the tendril go. "And then I got myself enlisted. I knew there was a chance I could die, and I wondered every time, why can't I just believe? I mean, I was shooting into those slums, not knowing if I ever hit someone – shouldn't that matter – did I need that off my record? What was I sending those people to, if I didn't believe in ... a god? What if I _need_ to believe in something? What grip do I have on Earth, if I don't believe in _anything?_"

Jake bowed his head. "It was a lot of unanswered questions," he said quietly. His hand withdrew, clenching on his thigh as he continued. "Then I _did_ get shot, but I didn't die, and for a long time I was too angry to want my questions answered. Too busy. I learnt to face any challenge. I didn't want or need anybody else. Anything. Then when Tom died, I didn't want to know where he'd gone. I didn't want to face it."

Jake looked up at the seedling again, his fingers digging into his leg so that his grief would not show on his face. He shuffled forward, pulling his queue over his shoulder and connecting it with the tendril of the tree. His connection with Eywa and the forest was suddenly increased – he gasped a little. It felt good.

"And then I found you," Jake said, a smile quirking his lips. "And not through a Tsahaylu. Just by being here, learning to live again. I know this all probably doesn't mean squat to you, but the last time I called you a tree you did listen; and besides, I understand now that faith ... it's often about being able to say it, and not about knowing you've been heard, and getting all your questions answered. Even if you hadn't answered me, and we were still fighting now, I would still feel safe knowing that you're here."

He wasn't surprised to feel Mo'at's dry hand rest on his shoulder. He revelled in Eywa's embrace for a moment before disconnecting his queue. "Oel ngati kameie, Mo'at."

"Oel ngati kameie," she returned. "It is the Tsahìk's greatest joy to see a seedling take root," she said in gravely Na'vi, leaning on him slightly.

"Yeah," Jake agreed. "It'll make a great Tree of Voices one day."

"I was speaking of you, Jake."

He turned, looking up at the woman who was, for all intents and purposes, his mother-in-law. But for now she was also the one who would guide him in his early years of being olo'eyktan. One day, he didn't know when, Neytiri would take over, but for now, her mother was very much the spiritual leader of the clan.

Behind her stood a small group, including Neytiri. Together the group held onto a great case, made of woven fibres over a tight frame and heavily decorated, longer than a man was tall.

"What's that?" Jake asked.

"You know what the name 'Omaticaya' means?" Neytiri replied.

"Um, isn't it about 'Blue Flute' or something?"

"The Clan of the Blue Flute, the 'Omati s'ampta'," Neytiri explained. "It is _very_ important."

The bearers rested their load before him, lifting its lid to reveal the namesake of the tribe.

The Blue Flute was not a flute. If it could be described in terms of a human instrument, the didgeridoo of the northern Australian Indigenous tribes of old would be the closest analogy. It was cylindrical, long, with a bulbous part near the top, and a flare at the bottom that narrowed again at the tip. It was as tall as a man, and deep cyan in colouration. He'd heard the story, knew that it had come from the wood of Hometree. He was curious as to how it had survived Hometree's destruction, but he knew that it was better to just be grateful. Its majesty could not be denied – when played well, this would be a formidable call to hear.

Jake, who hadn't been able to even play chopsticks back home, felt his stomach slither down his leg and hide, whimpering behind his foot. Vicious beasts would hear him roar, but he wasn't sure he'd make any sound worth hearing from this sacred pipe.

"It is tradition that the olo'eyktan play this only," Mo'at explained. "Tsu'Tey spent many hours to learn." Her eyes pinned him. She did not blame him that the only two men who knew the ancient art were dead. They shared that grief. Jake had never borne any ill-will to the would-be clan leader, even if he had been a pain in the ass sometimes. Tsu'Tey, had he lived, would have been a worthy leader, having spent his whole life preparing. Mo'at transferred her gaze to the flute. "It must not be forgotten. Today we teach you, but only you must touch it."

Jake nodded.

The others gathered around him, the Omaticaya's musical finest. There were pipe players, drummers and singers; for today, they all took on the new role of teacher. If Jake had thought he could just blow air into the Blue Flute and achieve results, they set him straight. His breathing and posture had to be corrected. Ninat taught him to exercise his lips and cheeks and how to move his tongue. She was patient, trilling her 'r's' until he could. The pipers spent a long time explaining how to purse his lips just so; the drummers played until he could feel the rhythm in his bones. The sun was high, the platform crowded by the time he was even allowed to reach over and hold the Omati s'ampta at last.

All was silent, even the forest it seemed, as Jake held it to his face, and with the deepest breath he could muster, blew. A long, clear note filled the air.

The drummers cautiously joined in, and Jake experimented, covering the single hole, and moving his mouth in the ways he'd been taught. The Flute had a surprising range of sound, and not as deep as he would have expected from such a large instrument. He was far from graceful, and he often made mistakes as he learned, but the other wind instruments guided him to a simple tune that even he could begin to mimic.

The gathering crowd hummed softly along as the smallest moon of Polyphemus, Tsmukan Hì'i, or Little Brother, rose up over the tree level. With one last long note, Jake withdrew from the song. The air seemed shimmery for a moment as he sucked in much needed air. The drummers, singers, pipers all ended on a strong note, eliciting cheers from the People.

Jake caught Neytiri's eyes, which were bright with admiration and approval, her lips curved by a slight smile. Jake carefully laid the Omati s'ampta within its case and stood up, facing his people.

"I have something to say," he announced in the language of the People, his hand finding Neytiri's. "The Omati s'ampta could have easily have been lost when Kelutrel fell. If it had been, maybe we would have found a new flute from Eywa within the Nest – maybe. But the fact that it is here, shows us one thing," Jake paused, searching for the words. "We are still the Omaticaya. All that meant something to us before is still important.

"I cannot promise that there will be no problems ... in the future. But I can promise," he glanced at Neytiri, "that I will be here to fight them."

Everyone was solemn at this. "Thank you," Jake finished.

A lone pair of hands clapping was heard. Many people turned, ears swivelling. Norm stopped with an embarrassed smile. "Ah, I forgot," he muttered. He raised a hand, "Good speech, Jake." People nodded at this, smiling slightly at Norm's cultural slip-up.

Jake chuckled, sharing a look with Neytiri.

Her hand tugged his, "Now we celebrate," she said.

By the fire pits, the kills of early morning hunting parties who had returned in time to hear their new olo'eyktan play were being prepared, alongside long trays of all manner of edible things. Children ran around the fireplaces with their toy ikrans, their mothers tugging their tails so the children would stop for a moment to be fed before they charged on again, launching the toys across the congregation in a game much like Frisbee. The daily activities of the clan were not abandoned; rather, what chores could be brought to the celebrations were taken and divided amongst themselves. Circles of weavers, beaders, carvers and musicians sat around sharing their craft, teaching small children and older folk relearning skills they may have abandoned. A group of hunters who had not yet come of age stood on the rocks at the edge of the lake, aiming to shoot decoys floating on the surface.

A ceremonial food tray was passed into Jake's hands, and Neytiri lifted a cup to his lips – it was customary for the trayholder to not take it for themselves. The liquid spread its warmth through his bones, a bit like alcohol. Jake returned the favour for Neytiri. After that, conversation came easy, but Jake would barely remember it the next day. Words passed him much like the connection with Eywa whispered at the back of his mind. He remembered lots of laughter, children placing newly made decorations in his hair. Ote'lo was one of these children, pulling Jake to his feet, begging him to dance.

"Touch your foot, jump left," Ote'lo said, showing Jake.

"What is this dance called?" Jake asked.

Neytiri jumped past, laughing. "Tail up, Jake. It is the Young Hunter's Dance."

Jake leapt into the air with the rest of the dancers around the fire pit. "Nobody danced this when _I_ became a hunter!"

Ote'lo spun around, giggling and Neytiri threw back her head in laughter, grabbing the child's hands. Together the two swirled on the spot as an unknown woman did the same to Jake. "It is for a different kind of hunt," Ote'lo's yelled over the drums.

The pairs separated, twirling onto their next partners, spinning in the opposite direction. Jake smiled to see Neytiri was his partner. "A hunt which you have already made your catch," Neytiri said, suddenly stopping. Jake's feet weren't so fast, and he almost crashed into her. Neytiri pressed her lips against his, then pulled back, jumping high.

"Foot, foot," Ote'lo told Jake from his left, "tail up, jump!"

"Maybe I shouldn't be dancing it then," Jake teased Neytiri.

She reached over, pushing his head.

The song finished and another picked up, but Jake and Neytiri sat it out. Ote'lo came skipping over, his glowing dots bright. "You not bad dancer, olo'eyktan," he puffed, squatting. "Do Tawtute dance?"

Jake saw from the corner of his eye that Neytiri, and several others turn in curiosity, ears pricked.

"Yeah," Jake allowed. "But not like this," he waved a hand at the dancers, who were throwing young children around in a circle.

"How do they?" Ote'lo demanded, jumping up to catch a toy ikran that was flying past. The children playing with it raced over. "Olo'eyktan Jake is telling stories about the Tawtute world," he told them. The children crowded around, faces expectant.

"Well, there are many dances," Jake began. "Different – what's the word for 'style'?" He turned to Neytiri, and she supplied the word.

"Show us!" a little girl cried, and the other children chimed in.

Jake shook his head. "I didn't learn any of them. I didn't dance much."

"Why not?"

"Everyone knows how to dance!"

"Were you bad?"

"Shh!" Ote'lo said, shoving the other children, "let olo'eyktan speak!"

"Well, I became tsamsiyu, warrior, and you can't dance with your enemies, can you?" Jake said.

"But you dance before, yes?" Ote'lo said, "and after, when you win!"

Jake laughed. "Oh, sure we danced before, but it was like your ' Young Hunter's Dance' – to go meet women."

"Maybe Tawtute can't dance it good," a boy commented, "if you came all the way here to dance with Neytiri."

Jake laughed again, harder. "Yes, yes, that's it." He caught Neytiri's eyes, and she was shaking her head, smiling. If he wasn't mistaken, this was the first time he'd seen her close to anything resembling embarrassment.

"Children," she muttered. Jake just smiled at her. The word wasn't as derogatory to him as it could have been. If he hadn't been like a child when they first met, Jake would never be the man he was now. She stood up, telling the children to go play. They ran off, the toy ikrans soaring over the celebrations once again. Jake followed Neytiri across the rock flat to the edge of the water. Aquatic life was beginning to glow under its surface. Jake glanced over his shoulder as the loud booming of pendulum drums reached them.

The northern side of the lake was bordered by huge slabs and blocks of rock that rose silvery from the water, reflecting the bioluminescent ripples from below. A shelf of smooth flat stone hosted the fire pits and celebrations. On each side tall vine covered boulders rose like walls, tumbling into the lake. To his left a line of slime over these boulders indicated an underwater spring feeding the lake at a trickle. Across the water to the south-west was the pale shore; beyond it through the forest was the Tree of Souls, the Hallelujah Mountains and Hell's Gate.

A group of adolescents had given up shooting targets and had begun to fling themselves over the twenty foot drop, laughing and yelling before their friends had to jump back to avoid being splashed. Neytiri moved away from them, sitting on the edge with her legs swinging. Her tail coiled over her lap. She held his gaze as he joined her.

"They won't miss me, will they?" he asked, gesturing back at the crowd of festivity.

She shook her head. "Not until later, when you will play the Omati s'ampta again."

Jake pressed a hand to his forehead. "You could've warned me," he said. "Nobody told me I had to go onto _American Idol_."

"American Idol?" she repeated.

Jake laughed. "Never mind. Old music competition on Earth," he said, waving his hand.

Neytiri cocked her head slightly. "Why is it that you could dance on Earth ... but did not walk in your human body here?"

"I was wounded."

"I know," she said quietly. There was no way she could have ignored his withered legs when she had carried his limp body to the Tree of Souls.

Jake reached over, taking her hand. She watched their hands, her eyes flickering in the glow of the lake. "That is not the question I was ..." her ears lowered. She did not finish her sentence.

"No," Jake agreed. He leaned closer. "You know you can ask me anything, Neytiri."

She shook her head, sighing to herself. "It does not matter –" she touched two fingers to her temple. "Eywa knows there are many thoughts that are not seen. Even by you," she stroked her fingers over his earring, resting her hand against his jaw, "Jake."

* * *

_Earth, December 24th 2154_

The flight attendant in first class was annoyingly helpful, Roy Selfridge thought. Every time his screen came to life with top secret company info, there she was, offering his some comfort or other. There was a baby wailing down in economy that could still be heard at the front of the plane. Outside, miserably cold drizzle wetted the tarmac. The screen in front of him played an endless loop of children singing on mountains and historic icons around the world, and then running along beautiful beaches with the airline's ship cruising overhead. It was sickening. There was a fat man in a Hawaiian shirt in the pod on his left who was exclaiming over the kiddy pack he'd begged for, delighting in the low-grade colouring pencils smaller than his fingers and the 16-page colouring book of various cartoons on slightly-green tinted algae paper. The orange of the man's shirt was an eyesore – and they weren't even going to Hawaii!

Twelve hours. Twelve _fucking_ hours of this?

An RDA-owned shuttle launch pad was situated on Cape York, the northern-most point of the continent of Australia. The RDA had quite a few similar operations in places near the equator: Northern Brazil, Sulawesi, Saudi Arabia, Venezuela, Mexico – and those were just the big ones. Roy Selfridge hated these trips. A trip to nowhere: hot, humid places that only dreamt of winters. You had to _barter_ for your food, couldn't even trust filtered water and if that weren't enough the people were stupid and the air conditioning rarely worked. It was his idea of hell.

"Would you like a catalogue of souvenirs?"

Roy Selfridge turned to the flight attendant, who'd placed a Santa hat on her head since he'd seen her last. "No. But you know what I would like? Some privacy, got it? Bring me a meal once we're cruising followed by champagne, then another meal with coffee to follow an hour before we land. Got it, sweetie? That's all I want."

The girl blinked once, slowly, a glob of mascara threatening to fall off, then went to talk to Mr Colouring Book.

He turned on the screen.

Satellite photos of Pandora, that distant world, drifted across the screen. He frowned. A red dot indicated Hell's Gate amongst the green. The pictures finally loaded, forming a three-dimensional composite. Roy swirled the planet around, lips pursed.

Those Na'vi savages had banished the RDA from 'their' land. If they were going to get unobtanium, the RDA would need to be where the blue monkeys weren't. The problem with landing on or launching off a planet was you had to land near the equator because there was less deceleration or acceleration needed. But it was also where the Na'vi who'd fought them lived.

"What to do?" Roy muttered to himself.

A stray finger flick spun the planet horizontally, showing a glimpse of the tiny icecap at the pole.

Roy peered closer, using his fingers to stop the planet's rotation. He double-tapped on the spot of white, looking for the readings of unobtanium in that area. The information was sparse – nobody had even thought about the poles – but a standard scan told him what he wanted to know. He touched a finger to his top button.

"Yeah?" the person on the other end answered.

"Figure out how to land on the southern pole using a Valkyrie Shuttle before the _Space Endeavour_ gets there and I'll double your pay."

There was a splutter of protest, but Roy Selfridge had already broken the connection. The plane began to move, speeding down the runway. Roy closed his eyes, hands gripping onto the armrests and the plane juddered its way into the sky. He thought briefly of his cousin Parker Selfridge, light years away in an interstellar vehicle.

Roy had never been the one for flying.

"This is your captain speaking; I hope you are all comfortable. We are now cruising at an altitude of approximately ten kilometres. You may feel a bit of turbulence for the next couple of hours, but from then on it should be clear skies. The time now in New York is ten past seven in the evening, which is ten past eleven on Christmas morning at our destination, if you want to change your watches now. We'll be serving you dinner in twenty minutes. Please enjoy your flight."

"Not likely," Roy muttered through gritted teeth.

* * *

_Pandora_

Norm was crouching in the low shrubbery, away from the fire pits and the partying Na'vi. His head pounded from the pendulum drums. His wound was burning, and he quickly began to unbandage himself to check it.

"Shoot," he muttered. There were two bullet holes in his ribs and a longer wound along his side where the bullet had grazed his blue skin. The two holes were healing well, the stitches beginning to dissolve. The best of Earth medicine and practises had been at Dr Patel's fingertips – the RDA had too much at stake to risk any of their employees to simple infections or flesh wounds. Not that Norm's wounds had been simple, and hadn't Max given him hell over it. As if he'd shot himself! He knew it could take weeks to heal at least, and he'd had a god-awful scar because of the rush to save his Avatar. But Norm's own pride had led him to return, to trek and climb and pretend he could do all that Jake could. And the long graze showed his stupidity: one end swelled, threatening to burst the stitches. "Doesn't smell too good either," he muttered, poking the skin near it, which burned hot and feverish. "Ow, ow."

"No, it does not," agreed a woman in Na'vi. Norm looked up, but couldn't see anyone.

"Hello?" He said.

Out of all the luminescent life, two eyes opened, yellow against the blues and purples. Norm made out her seated figure, leaning against a trunk and recognised her figure.

"Kaltxì, Hnene," he greeted, "Oel ngati kameie."

She heaved a long-suffering sigh and refused to return the greeting. "Stop poking," she ordered him in Na'vi. Her arm pointed to a plant in front of her. "Take top leaf of the paywll. Rub juice in." She shook her head in annoyance. "Aren't Tawtute supposed to know everything but understand nothing?"

Norm obediently did as she said. Beautiful as she was, Hnene's personality left much to be desired. Her obvious dislike of him and anything human was clear. He took the leaf, squatting in front of her and crushing it to release the juice. Slightly thicker than water, he hurriedly wiped it on the burning wounds. The effect was instantaneous, like an icepack against his skin. Norm sighed in relief, dropping the crushed leaf. He looked up at Hnene, who was watching his every move with a vicious look. He waved a hand at her stomach, "So... when will it be born?" he asked in a would-be casual voice.

She looked away, hissing at his Na'vi words.

"Sorry," Norm said. "Was that rude?"

She didn't answer quickly. "My child will be born in the first rains of the wet season," she said at last.

"So it's been ... eight months? Wow," Norm said. He looked at her, his curiosity piqued. He half wished for a notepad and a camera to record the evidence, but then shook himself. This was a real person. Still ... if she kept growing at this slow rate, her baby would be tiny. Norm wasn't exactly an expert but he _had_ seen his aunt go through pregnancy once when he was ten. She'd looked like a whale when she was three-quarters of the way through _her_ pregnancy. Hnene was big; but not _that_ big. "How much bigger will you get?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Stupid pokey Tawtute," Hnene grumbled. "Always prodding and ripping and stealing and asking."

"I'm sorry," Norm said at once. "I didn't mean to pry, really." He picked up his soiled bandage, rolling it. It probably wasn't the best idea to put it back on, considering its state, but it was better than leaving his wounds to the open air at this point. He began to bandage himself, when his hands were knocked away.

Hnene was crouched in front of him. "Skxawng," she growled, "Or do you want to die and make more smell?"

She reached to her leg, which was wrapped in a purplish cloth, and unwound it. Then with quick hands she tightly bound him, so tight he could barely breathe. She reached over and pulled a spine from a plant, stabbing him several times while pinning the new bandage in place. She backed away just a quickly, a hand over her nose and mouth.

"Well, gee, thanks," Norm said, still slightly stunned by her helping him.

"Your smell makes me sick," she said bluntly. Norm blinked.

"I'm sorry." It sounded like a question when he said it.

She jabbed a finger at his trousers. "Bad smell. Demon clothes _always_ smell. Why do you pretend to be Na'vi?"

"Maybe I don't want to pretend," Norm said. "You have so much here that I want."

"Demon aliens always try to steal from the Na'vi," she growled. "Steal our plants, our animals, our people." She quivered in anger. "You aliens never understand – you do not want to."

"That's not what I meant!" Norm cried, sitting. He spread his hands, "I _want _to understand. I don't want this to be alien to me," Norm said.

"It will always be," Hnene said with a definite air. Norm felt his heart pound. She didn't seem to be listening to a word he said.

"I'm not the one who ran away from the Na'vi," Norm spat in annoyance. "_You're _the real alien. You sit here in the bushes pretending you're with your people, but you're not. They don't even know you're here. At least I'm there, trying, you know!"

Hnene stood up, tail lashing. "How dare you," she hissed. "I should let you die. I should kill you." She stalked forward, her foot kicking out, hitting Norm in the shoulder. He fell back. Hnene stood over him, her weight pinning his shoulder down. Her eyes were wide, dilated, angry: no, beyond angry; she was deranged.

"I see how you look at me," she said. "Do not think I am blind." She shot a venomous look in the direction of the drumming. Her words followed quickly, and it took all of Norm's concentration to understand her Na'vi. "Tsahìk's daughter tells me I am mad. Maybe I am. But I see things she does not see. I see how you want to know, not to understand. All uniltìranyu have been like this. They ask questions like children pick fruit, leaving the forest starving. You want to steal my baby, I know it."

She leaned closer. "If you touch me, I will kill you." She reached down, quickly scratching her nails down the side of his face and Norm cried out in pain as she leapt off him, disappearing into the jungle.

Norm sat up, slowly, touching his cheek where three shallow cuts bled, his breath coming ragged. Then he stumbled back to the festivities. It was late, dark if not for the glowing lamps and fires. He heard rather than saw the Omati s'ampta being played. He headed for the crowd, eyes searching. At last he saw the small form of Hnene's brother, Ote'lo. The crowd was too thick to reach him, so Norm waited for almost an hour until the celebration ended and families headed back towards the Nest to sleep. Norm hurried over to Ote'lo's family, calling out.

"Dreamwalker," the little boy said, smiling sleepily.

"It's Norm," he said, stopping. "Something happened. I mean, um. I'm worried about Hnene. She seems very –"

"Crazy," laughed Ote'lo grandmother. "Yes, we know. Let her be, Dreamwalker Norm."

Norm opened his mouth to tell them more, but then closed it. What could they do about the fact she'd just given him a death threat? It would just cause unnecessary fuss.

"Goodnight," he said lamely, leaving them. As he climbed onto his bed later, he looked out at the forest, wondering where Hnene was, and worrying that she was far away.

Jake and Neytiri crawled into their sleeping alcove very late that night. They curled against each other, a cool evening breeze whistling against the wood of the tree. The odd drum beat or whistling instrument added to the evening chorus of leaves and nocturnal animals. The smallest satellite of Polyphemus reflected a dull orange.

"Three months until the season of rain," Neytiri said in English. "We have much to do."

Jake wedged his chin on her shoulder. "What's it like? The rainy season?"

"Like this, but there is a storm at the end of every day," Neytiri explained. "And hot. The days are ... more 'rim' –" she frowned for the word, "yellow. All the plants, they have children. Dust seeds on the wind cover all around." She pointed to the opening. "That will need a cover; we must make it."

"Okay," said Jake. His eyes threatened to close.

Neytiri laid her head down. "Sleep, Jake. My Jake. We'll need you in the morning."

* * *

Norm got out of the link chamber, yawning. Max was snoring softly at the computers, the only person who'd bothered to stick around way past midnight to keep an eye on him. Slapping some feeling into his face, Norm walked over to Max and softly shook him awake.

"What happened?" Max demanded blearily. "It's ... half past two," he checked his watch. "In the morning." He yawned as Norm led him slowly from the link room.

"Jake finished his initiation," Norm explained. "And then they partied."

"Huh," Max rubbed his eyes under his glasses. He peered at Norm. "So I don't suppose you got to talk to him about the plants again?"

Norm sighed, shaking his head. "He's not for it."

They reached the dorms. Max stopped at the doorway, his key card in hand. "I know he's loyal to the Na'vi ... and Eywa. But is he really willing to let billions of people die, not to mention allowing the infinite number of other life-forms on Earth perish?"

"I don't think he sees it that way," Norm said.

"What other way is there to see it?" Max asked, throwing up his hands.

"Humans fucked up Earth and we both know it," Norm said, tiredness and hours spent with festering wounds getting to him. "That's how I think he sees it. And he's not willing to risk Eywa to that fate."

Max shook his head, swiping his key card. "Well," he said. "Put it to him this way: If a trillion _trillion_ lives are ended, then it would be on him. Just because they haven't got a connection with everything else, doesn't make them worth any less. It's not Pandora versus Earth. It's life in the universe as we know it being destroyed. He might as well stab Eywa in the heart if he's going to let that sort of destruction happen, when he could have done something to stop it."

"Jake's not heartless," Norm protested. "You can't put all that on him."

Max stepped through the doorway, sighing. "I know that," he muttered. "I'm just trying to get the message through to him."

Norm followed through the doorway, which hissed shut behind them. They each parted down corridors towards their own sleeping apartments.

Norm did not sleep well that night.


	7. The Name

**Chapter Six – The Name**

Earth, September 29th 2154 (just over a month before the last RDA ISV is due to leave for Pandora)

The RDA shuttle pad was lit like a Christmas Tree. Guards walked alertly across the concrete acres and stood at the electrified and barbed wire fences. A huddle of concrete block buildings cringed as far as possible from a runway, at the end of which a lone rocket stood like an idol reaching up to the stars – an old relic, a joke. The usual smog and pollution clung to the ground in the gullies, making for the clearest night some would see for a long time. The full moon's light actually lit the surrounding landscape but it looked dry and dead; the endless Spinifex dotted by skeletal gums. All was still - apart from the men scurrying and swarming over the hills towards the complex.

"Rebel to Trojan team," one whispered through his encrypted wi-fi radio. "Positions?"

"Ten klicks down the highway," Trojan answered. "Vehicle is approaching."

"Observe radio silence until you're four klicks from the complex. Got it?"

"Sure."

Rebel waved his fellows to his side, crouching behind a rare bush. A narrow man knelt, flipping open an aluminium suitcase, the screen flickering to life, the light bouncing off his exopack mask. "I've got them covered for the three check points," the techie whispered. "The gate a kilometre from the complex – keycard, then another at the fence. They drive past that into the hangar – that's the third, photo id, and I've put them in the system, but he's naked from then on. But Trojan's team will remain in the vehicle for ten minutes before infiltrating, if it goes wrong."

Rebel nodded. Seven men crouched around him, binoculars trained on the RDA facility. Every now and then they'd pause, taking gasps of clean air through their budget handheld filters.

Ten minutes later the radio hissed. "Trojan team to Rebel team. All went according to plan. Not a scratch. Are we good to go?"

"Good one," Rebel replied. "Go."

Within five minutes the Jeep-like vehicle curved around the hill, headlights on high beam. Rebel and his team watched through binoculars as they stopped at the gate, their breath misting as they waited for the security check. Then the vehicle passed through, heading straight for one of the huge tin and concrete hangars. Rebel squinted, then turned to the techie. "Should we start?"

The techie nodded. The other men jumped to their feet, donning infrared goggles and pulling spades from the crisp grass. Behind the bush they began a frenzy of digging. Every thirty seconds they had to stop, gasping for their filters. Rebel helped the techie lug a canister shaped object towards the quickly forming hole. The spades clunked as they hit stone, the men bending into the hole. "Man, you're good," he said to the techie. "It's just the right size."

Rebel and techie pulled on their own infrared goggles. At the bottom of the hole there was an opening in the stone – a lava tube from ancient times which breathed out old musty air.

One of the men was already drilling, fixing in little metal rings into the edge of the tube.

"You sure they can't detect it?" Rebel asked the techie. The techie was breathing easy in his exopack mask.

"The only way they're gonna be able to look for it – and they won't be - is with density imaging," the techie replied. "The lava tube will look like a hunk of rock to them – and there's heaps of those all over the place."

The men lowered the canister into the darkness of the lava tube, chains suspending it. Rebel checked his watch. It had taken two hours to dig through the hard soil. The eastern edge of the sky was pearly.

The suitcase suddenly beeped. Rebel jumped towards it, kneeling.

"They're in," he said, clearly relieved. "Lee is still cracking their system ... but Bill's got the SLU into the Valkyrie cargo."

There was a vague cheer from the others. More hissing from filters, which puffed out the pollution asthmatically out one end, life bringing oxygen on the other, eagerly sucked up by the men.

They hurried to camouflage what they'd done, filling over the hole, the antennae from the canister sticking above the disturbed dirt. It had been disguised as a small green plant – weird enough that they'd be able to find it again, but not so weird that any RDA personnel would notice it. This far away from real cities, you could be lucky enough to see new growth, if you were looking. The men made sure no footprints were on the disturbed dirt. They had to retreat before it got light, or they'd be found.

As they scurried back over the hills towards their transport, Rebel paused for extra air, looking up. He waved the others to stop, pointing into the sky. "That's a star. A real star – you ever seen one of them, boys?" The men all looked up, their filters hissing, with wonderment at the morning star. He was right, many of them had never seen a real star before.

"Damn," Rebel said, clapping the techie on the shoulder and began running again. He laughed over his shoulder, daring to raise his voice, yelling, "It's a sign. Make a wish on it boys!"

Most of the men shook themselves, beginning to jog. A couple paused, however, eyes still on the star. They were quiet enough that all heard the techie whisper what they wished they were brave enough to beg.

"_Please save us."_

* * *

Jake often found it hard to believe how fast time flies.

With time comes familiarity; or so it would have been for Jake in those first three months of his being Clan Leader if it had not been for the seasons, and the People's activities surrounding the change between them. He'd joined the military for the hardship, to see for a moment if he could throw off the smog of urban existence. Tom had wanted the same, but had gone for enlightenment – Jake had gone for pain and mind numbing activity. But life on Pandora was another thing altogether. Every day was full of things to do, people to see, but not one bit of it was mind-numbing.

He woke at dawn, sometimes earlier. The clan was engaged in a myriad of industrious activities – preparations for the wet season were slowed by the fact that much of their tools and supplies had been lost with Hometree. The huge looms they used for weaving had to be rebuilt before cloth could be made. Covers for sleeping alcoves – not found or needed on the original Hometree had to be invented. Norm found himself suddenly popular with a design that looked like a mix between a fan and an umbrella made from waterproof skins stretched tight over a wooden frame. To look up at the Nest was to see dozens of these contraptions, of all sizes, like blue scales on the wood. Jake preferred not to sleep with them; it was not rainy quite yet, and he liked the natural light, sounds and smells of the forest.

The only quality time he spent in the forest away from the Nest was when he went hunting. He often guided hunting trips for young hunters on the ground. He missed the long days spent on his ikran's back, but he knew there would be a time when he would be king of the skies again, hopefully with Neytiri and Norm's company. Norm was learning how to hunt with speed, his 'scientific observation skills' as he called them becoming a valuable asset for tracking. Norm was a man possessed, and Jake could see how he'd made it onto the Avatar program in the first place. His brother Tom had had the same gleam in his eyes when he'd first began to work towards going to Pandora, at the age of twelve. Norm knew the name for so many of the plants and animals, but he had to rewire himself to understand Eywa not in terms of biology and chemistry.

Neytiri almost always accompanied them on these ground trips, for she had not yet been able to bear to get herself a new ikran. A hunter's bond with an ikran is much stronger than that between any human and pet – Tze'ze had been her friend. Humans often have to wait for months or years after a loss like that, so it was callous to think she'd simply get over her ikran's death quickly and get a replacement. But Jake missed the days when they'd flown together. As the days neared when the next group of hunters would go to get their ikrans, Jake considered how to ask Neytiri if she would join Norm when he went to Iknimaya.

The day was hot and humid, and it was clear that the months of sun and rain were upon them. Alpha Centauri A could be seen for longer periods of time each day as the season turned. Jake had returned from a hunt with a couple of others, but when he saw Neytiri waiting for him he quickly left his ikran to join her.

"You know, it might help if you flew again," Jake said, sitting beside her.

Neytiri inclined her head towards him, "It will," she agreed. Jake smiled in surprise. She turned her face back into the sunlight, eyes closed.

"I'm thinking Norm will be ready for his ikran in two weeks," he said. "Think I should tell him yet?"

"He works almost as hard as you did," Neytiri said.

"No," Jake said, feigning astonishment. "Come on. Really? I worked pretty damn hard y'know!"

"Norm is not tsamsiyu," Neytiri said, ears turning to the sun and glowing pink at the edges. "But he is smart. He was smart to know he had to learn everything from beginning, to forget."

"Empty his cup," Jake said wryly.

Neytiri smiled, eyes still closed.

"It will be good to fly again," she said wistfully.

In the coming weeks Jake had to prepare for his first time as guide to the ikran rookeries. There were two others ready to become hunters, both boys of about seventeen. Jake knew them both to be better pa'li riders than he was – he just hoped he wouldn't make a fool of himself. But he was more worried about when they got to the rookeries – making Tsahaylu with an ikran was dangerous at best, with risk or permanent injury or even death if the person failed, and it would be on him if anything happened to the boys. And, of course, he worried for Neytiri and Norm, even though he had complete faith in them.

When he told Norm that he was invited to Iknimaya, he expected excitement. Norm did not disappoint. He let out a huge whoop that no doubt scared the herd of hexapede they were following out of the forest. Norm literally jumped, pumping his arm, landing in a crouch with a grin that could split atoms.

"Seriously?" He didn't wait for a response. "Oh, yes, yes, yes! _Irayo, irayo!"_

"Thank yourself," Jake said, shouldering his bow with a smile. They wouldn't be getting the hexapede for a while now. "It's insane trying to catch up to sixteen years of training in three months – you did it, all by yourself."

Norm gave him a sardonic look. "You helped," he insisted. "Besides, you still got one up on me," he added grudgingly, "I had three years training, don't forget."

"Meh," Jake replied, "Silly scientist shit."

Norm scowled. "Drop it," Jake chided good naturedly, elbowing him. "You're happy, aren't you?"

Norm tried and failed to hide his huge grin from then on.

Roughly two weeks later, the group of five headed off for the Hallelujah Mountains on the back of pa'li. Jake and Neytiri took the lead in silent calm. Behind them, the two boys bumped and shoved each other in false bravado.

"I will get the biggest," one declared.

"I will get the fastest," the other replied. "Your one will be too fat and heavy to fly."

Norm trailed at the back of the train, back ramrod straight, his lips tightly pressed together.

They soon got to the point where the horses had to be left. The riders each urged the pa'li to return to the Nest before disconnecting the Tsahaylu. If all went well, the pa'li would not be needed again this day.

They climbed. Norm was the slowest – he still was trying to make the use of his tail a habit. But at last they reached the waterfall, the boys panting with the exertion. Jake nodded to the loudest boy, and they crept around the rock towards the banshees.

Jake, the boy's friend, Neytiri and Norm stood on rocks, watching as the boy stomped and taunted ikran. Eventually, a lithe ikran stood its ground.

The boy issued a cry and leapt forward, dodging claws and teeth. A wing whacked him sideways – he scrambled onto the beast's neck, ass over the ikran's head, legs hanging over it's eyes. Teeth snapped at his tail. But then the bond was made. The boy righted himself, and with a high-pitched scream, dropped over the cliff. Jake ran to the side, watching as the boy coaxed his new ride onto an updraft, where they hovered, wobbly, waiting.

The second boy was already risking his neck with an indigo female. He bound her jaw quickly, and almost leisurely climbed on and made the Tsahaylu. She flapped her wings twice, pulling herself into the sky.

Jake turned to Norm. The whites of his eyes were showing, and his breath came quickly, but Norm was determined. He and Neytiri continued through the field of ikrans, which parted as soon as they caught sight of the Na'vi, growling a warning before taking to the air. They had gone quite far when one ikran did not leave immediately. It was the same colour as the skies of Earth they showed in movies back on Earth– a rich blue that neither Jake or Norm had seen before coming to Pandora, its markings rich black. It was cleaning its wings, so perhaps it did not see them at first.

Norm stepped forward. "Hey! You!"

The ikran turned, looking astonished to be interrupted. Its eyes darkened, and it bared its teeth.

"Don't forget! Tsahaylu!" Jake yelled after Norm.

The ikran lunged. Norm flattened himself like a pancake to the rock. The ikran's head snapped around, searching for him. Norm reached out, his hand missing the antenna by a hair's breadth. But this alerted the ikran to his presence – he rolled; first left, then right, to avoid its needle-sharp teeth. Norm hauled himself to his knees, again reaching out and got a hand on the antennae. The ikran reared back angrily, pulling Norm to his feet. Norm held on for dear life, his spare hand trying to catch his own flailing queue, all the while dancing out of the way of the ikran's jaws. At last Norm managed to jam his queue against the ikran's neural connection, and panting, he crawled onto its back.

"Fly." he said softly. The ikran tightened its wings to its sides, powerful legs pushing it off the rock. There was an audible snap as it extended its wings, catching the air currents.

Norm's whooping faded into the distance as Jake and Neytiri continued on through the rookery, searching for an ikran that would suit her. All flew off when she stomped and hissed at them. They curved around the monolith to where the rock hung over, casting deep shadows.

Five large ikrans were resting in the shade, but it was the largest that drew their eyes, and they knew immediately just by looking at her that she was the ikran for Neytiri. Her eyes were narrowed at the two approaching Na'vi, and she let out a roar. The other ikran scampered off.

"Holy mother," Jake breathed. He had never seen an ikran – or any Pandoran animal like this one. Funnily enough though, it reminded him of a school trip to the zoo, and a huge albino boa constrictor he'd seen there. This banshee was similarly lacking the colours of her kind – where they had blue or green skin, hers was white with the barest tint of blue; where others had stripes of browns, orange or purples, she had markings of a pale butter yellow, with sparse lavender on her face and tail. And most stunning of all: her eyes were ice blue. She may have been a freak of nature, a genetic anomaly, but there was no denying she was a beautiful beast. And furious.

The ikran reared up, spreading her vast wings against the rock face, screeching a warning. Jake made sure not to make eye contact, but Neytiri stared into the pale eyes, which only made the ikran angrier. Its' teeth gnashed as the Na'vi woman approached.

"Eeee – ya'!" Neytiri leapt forwards, hands pushing down on the animal's snout as she vaulted over its head. Fangs snapped dangerously close to her legs, as Jake watched anxiously. The creature bucked, neck twisting – but Neytiri moved with purpose and determination. A moment later the ikran froze, eyes wide, breathing heavily. With a slow, calculated movement the creature turned, looking over its shoulder at its new rider.

"Yeah!" Jake yelled. "Whoo! That's my girl! Yeah, baby!"

Neytiri was laughing as her ikran bounded into the sky, her wings flapping around Jake momentarily. A whistle later, Jake and his ikran were launching themselves off the rock-face, diving hard to join the others who were soaring around a smaller mountain.

Jake yelled over the rushing wind, "Follow me, boys!"

He banked hard, then rose. Neytiri was at his side within a second. The roar and whoosh of air currents on sail-like wings followed them. He led the boys and Norm through a series of exercises – twists, turns, dives. The three who were new to this yelled at every change in direction, laughing, and in Norm's case, swearing. For hours they did this, Jake and Neytiri showing them how to shoot while travelling at high speed, how to learn the winds.

Alpha Centauri A, which the Na'vi called tsawke had set by the time they were landing in the canopy of the Nest. The boys farewelled their ikrans and their teachers before hurrying down, no doubt to regale siblings and parents and friends about their ordeals. Norm was slower, sliding off the ikran with about as much grace as a duck. He pulled himself to his feet, rubbing his legs. "Ow," he moaned, "I knew there had to be a drawback."

"It gets better," Jake assured him, standing by his ikran, still connected and rubbing its face. Neytiri lay against the pale neck of her own, her hands stroking its skin.

"I feel like Jane Fonda," Norm complained. "Not that I blame you," he said, turning to his ikran and patting its nose.

"Who is Jane Fon-der?" Neytiri asked with curiosity, lifting her head off the ikran's neck.

Jake shrugged. Norm shook his head slightly, "Before our time," he explained to Jake. "She was a ... she taught people how to exercise."

Neytiri was obviously not understanding the concept, her lip curling. Norm shook his head again. "She liked to squat."

Jake laughed. Neytiri turned to him, her eyes questioning. The laugh was turned into a cough, and Jake covered his mouth to hide his grin.

"Do not worry," Neytiri told Norm, "you will have powerful thighs soon."

Norm looked stunned; Jake burst out laughing. He was bent over, shaking.

"Did I say something funny?" Neytiri asked. Norm spluttered.

"I'll see you, Jake," he said tightly, giving his ikran one last pat before he left, stiff backed and bow-legged. Jake continued to snigger.

"I love you," he said to Neytiri. "You make me complete." He chuckled one last time.

Neytiri cocked her head, slipping off. She pressed her cheek against the ikran's, ears pricked.

"She's like you," Jake commented, eyes on the pair. "She's ... beautiful."

Neytiri smiled in pleasure, her eyes closing briefly. "She needs a name."

"A name?" Jake frowned – his ikran pulled away, sensing through their Tsahaylu that something was wrong. Jake glanced at it, his hand automatically touching its pointed chin. The beast calmed. "Would you like a name too?" he asked it softly, answered only by the breathing of the ikran.

"I have an idea," Neytiri said. "I will give your ikran a name, if you will give her one," she brushed a hand down a lilac stripe.

"Really?" Jake smiled. "Okay, then."

"Atan," she said immediately. " 'Light'," she translated needlessly. She paused. "You See better with light ... when you fly, Atan will guide you."

"You've been thinking about this!" Jake accused with false indignation. Inside, he was pleased. "I like it," he added to her. He peered into the newly named Atan's eyes. "Atan, that's your name." Atan took a rumbling breath.

"He likes it also," Neytiri said.

Jake then cast an eye over her ikran. "Uh ... how 'bout..." He scratched his head, eyeing the pale ikran critically. At last he said, "Ghost."

"Gost?" Neytiri repeated. "What does it mean?"

"_Ghost,"_ Jake corrected her. "It's ... they're like on Earth, the spirits that don't go to Eywa. They're white and they fly, and sometimes they're good ... and sometimes they're not."

Neytiri frowned. "There is no Eywa there, you have said. So, all become Ghost? The world must be very full. Grace did not say, at the school."

Jake shook his head. "Nah, they're a myth – a story, but nobody knows if it's true." He looked at the ikran, filled with doubt again. "Do you want a different name for her?"

Neytiri shook her head slowly. "Ghost is a good name, for her. A sad name, but also happy - I am happy to hear that some Earth people, even if there is no Eywa, can hear their ancestors."

Jake gave her a tight smile. He'd never believed in ghosts, but he didn't want to ruin Neytiri's hope.

The next day dawned hot and bright; a perfect day for flying. At breakfast Jake announced he planned to go hunting; the new ikran riders, Nguran and some others decided to accompany him. As they were leaving the fire pits, Jake was approached by a man who seemed vaguely familiar. He had a large scar on his arm that appeared like half his bicep had been scooped out. The man greeted Jake, then introduced himself, "I am Kai, husband of Ansit, father of Hnene and Ote'lo." Jake smiled and returned the greeting. "I am now healed," Kai proclaimed, "and I will hunt with you, Toruk Makto." Jake agreed, saying that they would be proud of have Kai on their team.

"And please, call me Jake," he finished as they approached the ikrans perched high in the Nest.

Their hunting party totalled twenty in all, and they flew in arrow formation to arrive quickly at a pocket of forest well-known for its resident sturmbeest herd.

The hunters sped, and wheeled above the canopy, eyes out for the tell-tale shake of trees.

At last, one of them rose up high on an updraft, the wordless signal.

Four of the riders banked to the east. The trees shook at the sturmbeest took fright, running out into the open. Jake gestured to the new riders – this was their chance.

Norm balanced the spear – but his ikran was not steady. Norm wobbled, his hand reaching for anything to grab onto, clutching onto the antenna. He swore as the spear was lost to the forest below, and shakily pulled his second – and last one before taking aim once more. He leaned forward as his ikran raced towards the herd, throwing with all his might at the last moment, spears from his comrades whistling over his shoulder.

Three of the sturmbeest stumbled, tripping up their fellows. The air filled with the scent of pollen and bellowing from bewildered animals. Riders quickly ducked and swooped, trapping the herd against a cliff. While the majority of riders ensured that those already wounded died quickly, a few sent the rest of the herd on their way, driving them as far as possible in the hopes of relieving their terror. As four carcasses lay, the riders descended, hurrying forward to make the prayers and ensure their catches did not have any undue suffering.

Knives appeared in all hands; already the edge of the clearing rustled with curious scavengers, and the deep drone of insectoids grew and even the plants were turned towards the butchery as if they too were watching. Large, people sized leaves were set out. Long flat strips of meat were wrapped in these as quickly as possible, and the leaves rolled, tied. Each rider, with the exception of the four new ones were give two to three of these rolls each, depending on the strength of their ikran. The new ikrans could not be trusted – they were neither strong nor tame enough to handle the heavy chunks.

Jake saw Norm standing helpless as the last rolls were attached to ikrans and waved him over. "How was it?"

Norm was watching all the activity with wide eyes. "It's ... brutal."

"It's quick," Jake said. "Remember, nature doesn't always kill quickly. At least these guys were dead before they knew what hit them."

Norm sucked in a breath. "You're right." With his eyes on the remains, which already had a few viperwolves nibbling on the bones he winced, a hand touching his chest, where his scars stood out like two pearls and a silver streak against his blue skin.

"You 'kay?" Jake asked, noticing it.

Norm straightened up. "I'm fine," he said, "It just twinges sometimes."

From behind them, their ikrans approached, nudging their riders. Jake turned, laughing, "That's the closest they come to a puppy-dog face," he said. "I'll feed you later, you lazy lump," he told his ikran, mock punching Atan's snout.

Norm carefully placed a hand on his own ikran's nose. "Jake?"

"Hmm?" Jake was tightening his saddle.

"Mind if I don't come back with the party?" Norm said, "I want to practise flying some more. I almost fell off when a breeze went by."

Jake laughed, climbing up onto Atan's shoulders. "Sure," he said, looking up at the sky. "Just get back before _that_ rolls in," he jerked his chin to the horizon, where a purple thundercloud sat.

Norm looked up. "Yeah." He stood beside his ikran until the hunting party had left. Norm walked once around the clearing, eyes tracing the disturbed earth, the droplet of blood here, a gauged tree there. It still freaked him out sometimes, in a good way, to think that he was miles away ... and yet, he was really here. A double life: so unfair; so many barely got even one life to themselves.

He hadn't collected any samples in two months. Sure, he had a few test-tubes of dried leaves and flowers back where his Avatar slept, but with most of the scientists having only vague ideas how to fly the remaining Samsons, there wasn't a way to return them to the lab. What wouldn't he give to take some of the stuff that grew right here back to the others. They'd go nuts. There was a small ground cover he knew – how could he forget, when it was capable of giving electric shocks? Or the vines, or a new octoshroom, no bigger than his fist? But it was impossible.

Except ... Norm looked at his ikran. "You can fly," he muttered.

It was a split decision. A stupid one.

He reached down, plucking the octoshroom in one hand and the tiny electric blue moss in the other. His arm jerked, muscles convulsing. His hand opened against his will. He cried out, cringing against his own stupidity. He backed away, finding a large leaf, and using it like an oven mitt, grabbed the moss and tied it up. He had a pouch against his back, which he began to fill hurriedly. Then he leapt onto his ikran, urging it as fast as it would go towards Hell's Gate.

He was flying with single focus through the Hallelujah mountains when a huge bolt of lightning crossed his path – it was horizontal due to the magnetic fields. His head seemed to rattle on his shoulders as the thunder rolled through him. His ikran screeched, swerving. Norm levelled them out, panting with shock.

Another bolt to their right, closer than the first. The mountain beside him boomed, rock spraying into the air, floating upwards, caught in the intense magnetic fields. His ikran twisted and turned. The lightning was the wrong way, the rocks were flying upwards like missiles and Norm couldn't tell which way was which. "Go left!" He screamed.

The ikran dived, narrowly avoiding another bolt, wings vibrating with the shockwave. Winds were buffeting from all sides it seemed.

And then it began to rain.

It was thick rain, heavy rain, raindrops the size of grapefruits.

In other words, the monsoon season had begun.

Norm guided his ikran to soar underneath a huge mountain. Lighting every second zoomed through the mountains, each CRASH and BANG and the winds making the mountains sway. The roar of water falling filled his ears.

"Down." Norm tugged on the ikran's antennae. "Just go down, down!"

They descended into a sharp spiral.

A lightning bolt escaped the field, going down. "Oh my god!" Norm yelled, as they fell through the canopy, leaves smacking. The tree was struck, the current of the lightning travelling though every branch, twig and leaf. Norm and his ikran felt, as one, all their muscles lock. The electric moss on his back was like fire, as they plummeted, muscles useless, brains just a wordless jumble.

They landed heavily on the forest floor and lay still.

Norm was awoken by shaking. He blearily opened his eyes.

A Na'vi woman was kneeling next to him. Her wet hair was plastered to her skin, and it was still raining. The trees groaned in the wind and the rumble of thunder could be heard.

"Demon man," she said.

Norm sat up, taking a second look at her. "Hnene?"

It was obviously her. She was at the end of her pregnancy, belly swollen.

"You broke my tree," she growled.

Norm looked up. His ikran was perched unhappily in a tree. The tree next to it looked like it'd been bombed – the wood was ripped open in a charred streak down the trunk.

"That was lightning," Norm said. He turned back to Hnene. "How are you? I haven't seen you in months, not since..." he trailed off. Hnene had not returned after she'd threatened him.

"I was bored of Tsahìk's daughter telling me I do not See." Hnene lumbered to her feet. "Leave now."

"Well, I don't think I can," Norm admitted. "Not till this storm ends. We almost got killed," he waved at his ikran, which shrieked in annoyance.

"You will leave now," Hnene said stubbornly.

Norm stood up. "No."

"Leave my tree."

"It's not _your_ tree," Norm said. "Only Eywa owns trees. I can stay here if I want."

"LEAVE NOW!" She howled.

"No," Norm answered quietly.

Her eyes narrowed and Hnene threw herself at him. She pinned him down, snarling. Then suddenly she cried, and stumbled back, clutching her swollen middle. "What did you do!" she screeched.

"Wha-"

Hnene bent over, panting in pain. "Demon," she moaned, "you've killed my baby."

Norm scrambled to his feet, trying to approach. She snarled, backing away. Norm stopped, holding his hands up. "I did nothing," he told her. "You ... you must be giving birth."

Hnene's eyes grew wide and she sank to her knees. "Kehe!" She moaned. "Not _now..."_ she glared up at Norm. "Eywa save us from this demon."

"_Christ,_" Norm swore, throwing his hands up. "I'm not a demon!" he told her again.

Hnene's face screwed up in pain, and she bent over her stomach, rocking herself.

Norm moved towards her. "Look, let's get you out of the rain at least," he begged her. When she didn't respond, he pulled her by the arm to a thicket of ferns. Together they crawled inside, where it was dry.

Hnene leant against a log, panting, hands over her belly, wincing. Norm reached out, "Is there anything I can-"

She slapped him away, screaming, "KEHE! Go away!"

Norm retreated to the other side of the thicket, watching as she stressed, feeling utterly useless. Before it got dark, he left briefly, returning with water and some fruit. In too much pain to refuse, Hnene took both.

The storm continued. Each raindrop illuminated the leaves. Norm could see Hnene perfectly as she groaned and cried. She screamed often for him to leave. He ignored her pleas.

She grew weaker. Sometime during the night, the thunder let up. Her moans seemed to fill the dripping, soggy forest.

At last, she squatted, hands on the floor. Norm shuffled over, gingerly placing a hand on her back. Her skin was hot, her muscles all like rocks under her skin. Perhaps she was in too much pain to feel him, for she didn't stop him, or throw him away as he rubbed her soothingly, making comforting noises.

He tugged at the cloth rope on her hip. "I think you need to take this off," he said.

She nodded frantically at the floor. Her hands fumbled with the knots. She flung the cloth through the leaves, then screamed louder than ever before. "Ngera! Why have you left me!" she sobbed. She shook with her crying. Then her head tilted up, and Norm saw that her pupils were dots in her eyes.

Suddenly, all her luminescent spots grew dark, and she screamed.

"The baby!" Norm yelled. "Hnene, you have to push!" he hoped it was the right advice. How would he know?

She screamed again and again, and Norm heard a strange slithering noise. Hnene pulled her hands off the floor, looking down.

The baby was minuscule and encased in a thin film. Hnene reached down, ripping it from her child.

Its keening wail filled the air. Hnene held the child in front of her, mouth open in amazement. She sank into a seated position, holding the infant to her chest, looking bewildered. In love. Her luminous spots lit up again, her pupils dilated. The baby continued to cry.

"Shh," she crooned, rocking. Her hair was stuck to her face. The baby had a full head of hair, still damp. A longer lock of hair went down its back, and Norm could see the pale pink neural hairs interspersed. The baby's markings were very clear, stripes almost black against bright blue skin.

Birth wasn't exactly pretty, but Hnene and her child were gorgeous.

Hnene lifted her eyes to Norm. "Thank you," she said.

She then carefully braided her little girl's hair around her queue to protect it. Then, with infinite care, she pulled her own queue around and made the bond with her child.

Her eyes closed in bliss, and her girl grew quiet. Then she opened her eyes and the two stared at each other, smiling.

"I have no name for you," she confessed to the baby. She turned her eyes to Norm. "Tawtute. What are your children named?"

"Uh," Norm looked up in surprise, "I don't have children."

"A woman?"

Norm hesitated, then, "No."

"And still, you are a man to your people." Hnene's head tilted and she looked at him in curiosity. She then spoke, in the slowest, most accented English, "My husband is dead." Her voice caught at the end, and her ears lowered.

Norm's mouth hung slightly open. "You speak English?"

"Yes," she said, tears creeping into her eyes, "The ... school is the place where ... Ngera is killed."

"Was killed," Norm corrected automatically, only realising his rudeness afterwards. "Sorry." Her tears poured over, and she shook slightly. "Hey," Norm said, crawling over. She didn't stop him when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she just cried.

"I ... am ... alone," she wept.

"No," Norm said, squeezing her. "I'm here. Your baby is here."

She hiccupped, looking down at the little girl, who was curled up asleep, seemingly unaware of her mother's distress.

She peered at Norm. "Alien, will you take me home?" She returned to speaking in Na'vi, her voice small and lost.

He nodded. "My name is Norman, but they call me Norm," he told her. "I'll take you back to the Nest," he agreed, "but until it's day time, why don't you rest?"

Hnene nodded weakly, laying down, holding her baby to herself. Norm shuffled away from them and curled up in the leaf litter. His eyelids felt like they had weights attached. The rain was softening. Curling his tail, Norm fell asleep.

* * *

Norm had not returned that night, and Jake wondered why. The storm had blown in not long before sunset, providing Jake with his answer. Although it probably wasn't the best idea for Norm to be out in the forest in the first storm of the wet season, there was really nothing Jake could do. He decided to go looking for Norm in next day, when the skies were calm.

Early in the morning while it was still dark, Jake awoke. His Tsahaylu had lit up like the sun.

A voice echoed, calm and serene.

_Eywa. This is my daughter, Astiri, child of Ngera and Hnene. _

But the flood of sensation didn't come from Hnene. It came from the second person, who was like a sun in the darkness. Jake could feel everything little Astiri could – every new breath, fuzzy images, smells, sounds, touch. Her vision was overlaid over his; he saw Hnene's exhausted face – and, much to his disbelief, Norm's face.

Neytiri rolled over, her eyes open. Jake clutched her hand, sucking in breath. "Wow," he whispered.

"What is it?"

"Hnene ... she's got a daughter. Astiri," Jake breathed.

The connection faded, and Jake pulled Neytiri to his chest. "I could feel ..." he was lost for words.

Neytiri pressed her lips to his collarbone. "Show me," she said. Each took their queues and made Tsahaylu. Jake relived how it felt to breathe, as a baby did, to see colours for the first time, and to hear a mother's heartbeat. And to feel love – complete, unconditional love.

Of course, that love soon morphed into a different kind – not the love of a child for a mother. Neytiri straddled Jake as the sky grew golden with the sunrise.

The sun had fully risen by the time they lay spent, Neytiri draped over his chest. Jake stroked her hair as they looked out at the forest. A fine golden mist was rising up from the trees, but Jake didn't know if it was evaporating water... or something else.

"It is rainy season now," Neytiri said, a hand waving to the opening. "We will have to use the cover."

"Okay," Jake said reluctantly.

"More babies will be born," she warned him softly.

Jake squeezed her, laughing softly. "I don't mind."

They gazes locked. "And if we?" She half-asked the question.

Jake pushed a loose braid from her face. "When Eywa wills it," he said.

Neytiri laid her head down on his chest. Her words tickled his skin. "If it is a boy ..." she said so quietly he could barely hear her, "I would name him Thomas."

Jake slowly laid his head back, staring up at the sponged ceiling. "It'll be a girl," he said. "I bet."

Neytiri's lashes fluttered against his skin as she closed her eyes. "Maybe."


	8. Seeds and Eggs

**Chapter Seven**–** Seeds and Eggs**

_"Kill me!" said the poor creature, and he bowed his head down over the water to wait for death. But what did he see there, mirrored in the clear stream? He beheld his own image, and it was no longer the reflection of a clumsy, dirty, grey bird, ugly and offensive. He himself was a swan! Being born in a duck's nest, in a farmyard, does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan's egg._

_He felt quite glad that he had come through so much trouble and misfortune, for now he had a fuller understanding of his own good fortune, and of beauty when he met with it. The great swans swam all around him and stroked his neck with their beaks, as a welcome._

_The Ugly Duckling, _Hans Christian Anderson (1844)

* * *

The lid to the link chamber opened, and Norm sat up. Two Avatar drivers were draped against the controls, snoring. It was not an unfamiliar sight. With Norm's descriptions, their Avatars had managed to trek days into the forest to collect samples. He knew the link chamber to his left would be occupied: someone had to be conscious to care for the Avatars at all times.

Hell's Gate was a lonely place. What had once been filled with roughly one hundred and fifty personnel was now housing only twelve. Wind whistled through the concrete buildings and the grounded Samsons; AMP Suits stood in their sheds alongside enough artillery to start an economy. Dynamite from the mines sat abandoned, joined by missiles, flares, various kinds of ammo and guns that ranged from small to ridiculous. So much junk. None of the scientists had a clue how to use any of it, except for perhaps the dynamite if they'd done high-school chemistry, and the handguns if they'd grown up in _that_ kind of household.

The greenhouses which grew food for the residences were overflowing with unused produce and the pseudo-meat factory had been dialled down to "low": a setting which yielded twice the amount of artificially grown beef, chicken, lamb and fish that they needed. They even had a whole warehouse of freeze-dried meals to boot. Yum. On the plus side, there was enough water for all of them to take long hot showers every day. And it almost felt like the air was clearer – but Norm supposed it was just that they had much more oxygen between them. If it weren't for the fact that most of the utilities were automated by computers and robots, they'd be in deep shit – as it was, the efficiency of the mini-city the RDA had built was making them all realise how much was being wasted.

Forest banshees had taken residence on the roofs, basking in the sun. Most animals avoided the place; they'd learnt long ago that it wasn't safe.

Norm knew he'd need to make the link again in a few hours. He crossed the room to where they'd put a coffee machine. The beeping awoke one of the drivers.

"Norm?" she said groggily. "Jesus, what time is it?"

"Three-oh-six," Norm looked at his watch.

"What's happening at the Nest, ikran rider?" The new title had caught on the night before.

"No idea," Norm said, watching in satisfaction as the machine began to boil water. The cup filled and he took it, turning around to face her and leaning back against the bench. He frowned into his coffee. "I just helped a woman give birth."

Wendy sat up, awake. "You _what?"_

Norm nodded slowly. "Yeah." He felt stunned. "D'you remember, I met a pregnant Na'vi three months ago?" It felt odd to refer to Hnene that way – after the events of that night, which had been so extraordinary. Intimate. Dangerous.

Wendy reached for the keyboard, tapping in. A screenshot from his link was pulled up. That was disturbing, how they could see what the Avatars could see. The real Hnene was different now – even over a few months, she'd lost weight. In the screenshot she looked miserable, exactly as he first remembered seeing her. Very different to the new mother out there. "Wow," Wendy said. "The kid must be a stunner."

"It's a girl," Norm sighed.

Wendy looked up. He gulped half the cup. "Aren't you going to sleep?"

"No," he answered. "I have to go back soon."

"A shower?"

Norm hesitated. "It might wake me up."

As he snatched his towel from his bed, he realised he was turning into Jake. He made sure, then, to grab a bar of soap and use it, scrubbing himself pink and turning the water as scalding as it would go.

He got out, shaved, and put clean clothes on. He'd taken to wearing the standard issues, with most of his personals stuck in the unit out in the jungle. Silly, how he missed his flowered shirts and Wal-mart underwear and socks, even though it was becoming increasingly familiar to go around in a loincloth while an Avatar. He looked in the mirror – cam pants, grey shirt. He looked like a marine – well, a scrawny one. At least he didn't have wounds on _this_ body. Nevertheless, he was getting weaker, and it was showing. Where was the scientist now? What had he been doing all this time, to become this?

He stopped by the canteen. One of the insomniac Avatar drivers was making scrambled eggs, adding water to the powdered mix. On the counter next to her were three piles of dry-meal packs.

"Greg, Kieran and I are going camping," Louise said, handing Norm toast, "We found some pop-up filtered tents in the military stuff – they were keeping it from us, the bastards. So we'll be gone for a week. Any tips?"

"If you see any electric blue moss, don't touch it," Norm said, taking a bite. "Ugh, chewy."

Louise leaned over, banging the toaster. "The humidifier's been acting up," she muttered. "Should we collect some?"

"If you can," Norm said, thinking of the samples he'd foolishly tried to take to Hell's Gate. What had he been thinking? At the time, it had seemed like a great idea – the right thing. Of course the others were already out there, doing their job ...

He'd always been jealous of Jake's inclusion in the Omaticaya, desperately wanting in too. At the same time, there was so much Grace hadn't known to write in her book, and he'd just as desperately wanted to do _his_ job.

"Fruit's ripe all over the place – take Grace's guide book, and you won't have to carry so much food," he said, coming out of his reverie.

Louise nodded. "Rain's started," she said, "Maybe we shouldn't..."

"You're fine under the trees," Norm said. He walked into the pantry, snatching a bag of dried fruits. Once, only those on kitchen duty would be allowed behind the serving counter, but now the people who remained went wherever they pleased. It felt like a really weird form of Big Brother, having all these facilities at hand. Creepy.

Back at the link room, the drivers had swapped for the last watch-shift of the night. Wendy was still at the controls, refilling her coffee. She smiled weakly as he entered. "I'll get you going," she said.

The chamber whirred to life, and he opened his Avatar eyes.

Sunrise. Norm sat up, staring. Yellow dust floated through the air, covering the floor like ashes, or snow, his own body golden. He brushed himself, choking as he breathed in. "Spores," he told himself.

Hnene was already awake, standing beside his ikran and rubbing its nose. The sucker was grinning so that its fangs showed, grumbling in pleasure.

"How did you – You know what, never mind," Norm said, getting to his feet and getting the kinks out of his neck. Hnene left the ikran, walking gingerly through the low ferns. She had a piece of cloth which she'd turned into a makeshift baby sling, her daughter's tiny head peeking out.

"We go now?" She asked.

He looked at her thin, tired face. "Have you eaten?"

Her eyes widened and she looked down at her daughter. "No," she said, her hand tightening around the cloth over her shoulder.

Norm didn't answer, instead turning and looking into the forest. "Wait here," he told her, ducking through leaves that sucked at his skin as he passed.

He paused, took a few steps back, and looked at the ground. A pod-shaped fruit, seemingly ordinary, lay newly fallen on some flattened leaves. He knew what it was: it was the _uta mauti_, or push-fruit. It was a rare, delicious find, and very nutritious. He went to pick it up to give to Hnene, but stopped himself. Due to Na'vi culture, if he offered it to Hnene, she would refuse it. He grabbed a couple of small blue fruit hanging just over the push-fruit. "Hnene!" he yelled. "Come get some!"

He placed himself away from the push-fruit to make it look like he hadn't seen it, munching on his own breakfast.

She drifted into the small clearing. "Tsatseng. There," he pointed, feigning carelessness and taking a huge bite of his food.

She approached the bush, and grew still. She looked over her should at him, where he sat with a massive smile, his teeth stained blue from the juice. "Yum."

She leaned down and picked up the push-fruit, turning with it in her hands, her face puzzled as she gazed at it.

"What's tha – wow! Is that really – I mean, you found a push-fruit?" Norm exclaimed. He couldn't help but smile at her expression. It didn't matter that he probably wouldn't ever find another push-fruit.

Hnene looked up. "I have never found one before," she whispered.

"I heard you're supposed to offer it to someone you love," Norm said lightly.

Hnene smiled. "Astiri," she said, looking into her daughter's eyes, "would you like some?"

Astiri made a small squeal, bunching her hands up by her face.

Hnene smiled with the warmest expression Norm had ever seen, slowly lowering herself onto a fallen log. Norm beamed to himself as she slowly picked at the fruit, clearly enjoying every bite.

"Astiri," he repeated. "That's ... a nice name."

Hnene gave him a brief smile.

Once they'd finished, Norm left while Hnene fed Astiri, feeling embarrassed by the matter-of-fact way she did it. Berating himself – "Get a hold of yourself, they're just _breasts_!" – he approached his ikran, making a brief Tsahaylu to urge him to fly on alone.

When she was ready, Hnene slipped into the clearing, meeting his eyes briefly before edging back through a purple thicket. The going was slow, Hnene walking with determination, refusing to rest. She never looked at him or said a word, and he could see a tightness in her lips: pain. Every time he stopped so she could take a break, she strode past as if she had not seen him stop. Norm led her, using the celestial bodies for guidance until he came across a familiar yerik trail that he knew would lead them to the Nest. It was smoother going, with no logs or roots for Hnene to have any trouble over. And so they journeyed, the three of them.

* * *

Jake woke feeling not quite lazy, but peaceful. He opened his eyes, finding his mate's face inches from his, resting serenely. Neytiri's hair, dusted with gold, fluttered around her from his breathing. He reached out, pinching a strand between his thumb and forefinger, looking with curiosity. Seeing his own hand, he found he was covered in golden dust as well. It had a faint scent, chalky and flowery at the same time.

Neytiri stirred. She sat up, sliding beside him. A fine mist of yellow stirred at her movements. She let out a low laugh, catching his eye as she raised her hands, using them to create patterns in the dust. "Seeds," she explained, "because it is the wet season." She fanned the cloud of gold towards the open arch.

Jake's eyes followed the cloud of seeds out over the forest. He didn't know why, but it looked familiar and even though he knew it was beautiful a sense of disquiet settled within him. There was something worrying about the daylight that filtered yellow through the billions upon billions of seeds the forest had released during the night.

Neytiri was watching his face, and gently pressed her forehead to his cheekbone. "How is the Tsahaylu?" she asked, a finger on his temple as she pulled back, eyes holding his.

Her mentioning it turned his thoughts to the bond – much like opening a window, he could suddenly hear it loud and clear. Many of the Omaticaya were bonding with the forest, sharing their happiness at the beginning of the wet season.

"It's fine," Jake said, bringing himself back reluctantly. Good prayers were addictive to listen to – layers upon layers of joy could make for an emotional high. Of course, if the prayers would ever to be full of distress again ... Jake did not want to think about that.

Neytiri stood, back arching and tail curling. "We fly today?" She mused, finding her flying goggles on her chey. "Let's go meet Hnene and the baby."

"Should we?"

"The Tsahìk needs to see every new Na'vi child," Neytiri said.

"You're not Tsahìk," Jake pointed out.

Neytiri pursed her lips, ears lowering. "I know," she said. This was apparently all the answer she would give him as she pressed herself through into the inner spiral. Jake grabbed his own goggles from a small basket, following her.

One flight up, Neytiri stopped by the entrance to another sleeping place. "Wait here," she said, ducking through.

When she slipped back a few minutes later, she was followed by a familiar face. "Olo'eyktan!" Ote'lo said, grinning, "I See you!"

"I See you," Jake replied, smiling back.

The boy was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I am an uncle," the boy announced proudly.

"I heard," Jake said wryly. "We're going to find her now."

"Bring back the baby?"

Neytiri had a small satchel, and finished tightening it around her torso. "Your sister knows that her daughter must go to the Tree of Souls. That is most important. If she is closer to the Nest, she would come here first to get a pa'li. She is out in the forest, and we will find her. But it may be days before you see your niece, 'evi."

Ote'lo looked crestfallen. "Oh." He frowned for a moment, then, "It's a girl?"

"Yes, her name is Astiri," Jake told him.

The little boy jumped, cheering, running back into his family's sleeping area, yelling, "Her name is Astiri!"

Jake and Neytiri shared surprised looks, laughing.

The boy burst back through, his arms full of food packages. "For your trip," he said, offering the packets, "You must hurry. Go now. Get my niece. Now, now!" The boy was smiling, his eyes wide with excitement.

They thanked him, taking the food, and ate on their way up to the top of the Nest. As they arrived on the lip of the platform, Jake asked Neytiri, "So how will we find them?"

"We will ask Eywa; she has many eyes," Neytiri said, leading him towards the seedling. Fifty or so Na'vi sat before the seedling, and as he approached, they became louder to him.

As he sat and made the Tsahaylu with his queue, it rose so much that he couldn't hear anything else.

_Let her notice me,_ a young man's voice whispered fervently

_Let my son grow strong. _A mother with a boy at her side.

_Eywa ... grant us a child._

He blinked, focusing on the man from whom this had come from.

Jake knew better than to talk with people about what they said to Eywa. He had to keep in mind that it was only him who could hear individual thoughts so clearly. The members of the congregation, so focused on Eywa and their own link with Her, never knew; and because of this, the prayers were often so very intimate, even secret that he knew it would be slightly disturbing, not to mention rude, to draw attention to them in public everyday life.

The man was not the only one making such a request. At least half of the people, mostly couples, were thinking the same thing. Clearly, the start of the rainy season also signified that it was a good time for babies to be conceived. Jake remembered what Norm had said: Na'vi only conceived during this season. Whether it was for biological or cultural reasons had not been discovered by Dr. Augustine. Jake guessed that if he and Neytiri were to want the same thing as these couples, he'd find out sooner or later.

Neytiri's hand rested on his knee, catching his eye. They both focused on following that taste of Hnene's connection, so rudimentary, through a wound in a tree that she had made with Eywa early that morning.

Her hand left his knee, and he opened his eyes, following the way she was pointing. A golden orb hung low in the sky. "That way?"

Neytiri took a deep breath, disconnecting and standing up. Jake lingered a moment longer, then rising to join her they left, climbing higher until they could call for their ikrans, Ghost and Atan.

The banshees hurried, eager to fly. With barely a thought, the four of them were launching themselves above the golden mist of seeds, higher into the atmosphere, below the slowly forming clouds from the steam of the forest.

The ikrans kept an eye below, aiding in the search for the new Na'vi mother.

* * *

Hnene was not very talkative.

Norm found himself yabbering on and on as they walked to fill the silence, and also hoping to distract Hnene from whatever pain she was in. Besides, it was good practise for his Na'vi. "And then on my first day of high school history, the teacher walked in and said, 'I should be talking about Lincoln, but they've released some pictures of aliens, and I think that's more important,' and he put them up on the Smartboard, and – I dunno, they could be related to you, or something – but then I was just thinking how awesome it was and that I _wanted_ to be there."

Norm looked over his shoulder. Hnene was walking carefully through mud, but it was splattered up her calves, just as it was on his own legs. She seemed to be ignoring him.

"Then the biology teacher started up this club of sorts, except it was almost like a class and we were studying the second edition of Doctor Augustine's book like a textbook, and we went on all these fieldtrips, and that's where I met the scout from the RDA – I mean, usually they go looking for Avatar drivers – people doing research at universities, but this guy, he just walked up to me – it must have been my fifth time to the facility. My teacher, two others and I in the club often went there without the rest, because we were fanatical, I guess you could say. Anyway he asked me if I'd heard of the Avatar program that they'd recently started, and of course I had, and he told me that they were looking for young scientists to participate in future; that if I got the grades, and the degree, that I could maybe apply to get into the training program, and if I got through three years of that, well, maybe, just maybe I might get to go to Pandora.

"Of course that was like telling the crazy dude that 'they are out to get him' – the club was no longer enough. I wasn't a bad student, say, but I needed an A plus in every subject in order to get into Ivy League – my best, perhaps only chance of getting enough training to get into the Avatar program ..."

Norm took a deep breath, "My friends were out there, "living it" – I guess some people thought of it that way – while I slaved away, and you have no idea how hard it was, when you're fifteen, and you know you need to be in peak physical fitness, but you got to juggle that with study. And my body wasn't giving me any muscles then, I didn't get those until I was seventeen; and people thought I was a bit weird, I mean, I didn't _tell_ anyone why I'd be like 'I have to study now' but then next day I'm dragging them out, because they make personality and psychological profiles, you know, make sure you work well with others, so I couldn't be a recluse, I had to seem like I had a normal life – I didn't realise I was actually keeping myself sane, even though at the time I thought going out was just another damn chore.

"I had no idea that I probably wasn't the only one doing that sort of thing – no, that came later, when I was at uni, first year, when I went to the first Avatar information evening, and there were five hundred people there. I nearly had a heart attack, I tell you. Some of them were very smart. Some girl told me that they also judge you on how you look – she told me that my nose was wrong – can you believe that! I had to go to the bathroom I felt so sick, and there were about twenty guys in the bathroom, all looked like they were having breakdowns, so I just stood against the wall and told myself, 'I want this more than they do,' like that gave me more reason to believe I'd get in.

"Of course the stupid girl was wrong about the nose – I got in, face and all. And I thought I'd been working hard up until _then._ It was like boot camp. Holidays – we got four of those, a week each time, told we should be grateful for that – were doubly as hard as all the years of hard work before. The rest of the time – well, the only perk was all the classified information suddenly available to us and the Avatar simulations – nothing like the real thing, of course – but still, it was a bit like a game. I made some good friends, there were twelve of us in that grade, but we were all in competition, we knew there were only five places each year.

"It was during my first year there that the PETA went to the media with these pictures of starving Na'vi, and my sister, well, she believe them, she thought I was part of it all, so she wasn't very ... I tried to explain that it was probably fake, but how would I know – I was just like everyone else, even though I had more knowledge, I knew I'd gotten it from the same source, the RDA, as the whole world – how could anyone be sure?"

Norm stopped talking then, helping Hnene over a log. He didn't continue to speak when they were walking steadily again either.

Hnene said softly, "Why was your sister angry?"

Norm glanced over his shoulder. "Oh. Well, there's this group, on Earth, called the PETA – they want animals to be protected. They said it was wrong that we'd sent people here, that it was cruel to the Na'vi. She believed that, too."

Hnene was looking at him, brow creased. "Na'vi are _not_ animals. Is that how your people think of us?"

"Not me, not the Avatars," Norm said, "not any of the people who know enough. But you're not human – what else could we think of you? Don't tell me that it never occurred to the Na'vi to think that Sawtute are animals."

Hnene nodded. "You are right. There is only so many times you can say 'Alien' and it means something." She paused, then added, "Your sister was wrong."

Norm blinked, turning back the right way around. "I thought you'd agree with her."

"Cruelness only happens when the victim cannot fight back," Hnene said. "If we had done something earlier, our people ... The Tawtute were a bad thing. I will not lie to you, Norman – Norm," she stumbled over his name, "But ... we proved ourselves against them. We won. We could not have done that, if there had been no fight."

Norm glanced at her again. "Not one Na'vi has put it to me that way."

"Have you spoken to them about this?"

She had a point. The Na'vi didn't talk much about the time of sorrow. They talked about what needed to be done to better the future, they talked about missing Kelutrel and loved ones, they expressed pleasure as the forest regained strength. But dark events in history have a knack for erasing themselves – the Na'vi accepted that little could be done to the past. Norm figured it was easier for them to act as if he and Jake had been Na'vi since birth in order to show their acceptance into the tribe.

Acceptance. Norm hoped, that by the end of the wet season, he would become Na'vi just as Jake had.

Hnene posed him another question a little while later: "Did your sister change her mind?"

Norm slowed. "Yes. She was just ... worried about me. She wasn't going to see me for years."

Hnene nodded at this. "And now, she will never see you."

Norm swallowed. He had to remind himself that he was not the only one – the other Avatar drivers all had family too. One had even left his wife. And what about all those other pioneers in history – there was always a sacrifice, always. With the superluminal communication blocked by the RDA, there was no communication with Earth, so he didn't even have that comfort. He'd grown up in a world where you could know anything and everything about someone within moments – yet here, there wasn't a peep and_ this_ was the real cruelty of the RDA.

"Maybe they'll tell her I'm dead," Norm said, stopping. "That would be kinder."

Hnene's expression darkened. "No, that is not kind. I would rather not know that one I love is dead." Her hands clutched her sleeping daughter.

"On Earth, hope kills," Norm told her. "It eats at you, if it's hope for something that's false. If she lives her life thinking, preparing for my return ... it would be a waste."

"There is hope here also," Hnene replied, stepping past him, "but it gives – it is the gift of the unknown."

* * *

They'd just flown over Hnene, or a Na'vi that looked like her, a brief glimpse through the leaves. Neytiri had banked hard, turning. He followed, confused, yelling out to her. Neytiri called to Jake, "I see a wild pa'li!"

The rustle of wings on the wind was a roar in Jake's ears. "Say again?"

Neytiri pointed to a clearing; a group of pa'li were feeding on nectar. "For her!"

He nodded. They landed a distance away, as to not scare the animals, and sneaked to the edge of the forest, looking in on the clearing, ropes at the ready. They shared a glance, then silently ran forward, jumping on and making Tsahaylu with one smooth move. Jake's pa'li jumped forward in surprise, cantering a few steps until he managed to sooth it, turning it to where Neytiri sat peacefully on the second one's back, stroking its neck.

"This way," she said, leading them back into the thick jungle in the direction of Hnene. They came across her within twenty minutes, trotting across her path. Jake jumped down, exclaiming, "Norm?"

Norm raised a hand. "Hi," he said. "You looking for us?"

Neytiri steadied the pa'li, then approached Hnene, who hung back on the path. "Oel ngati kameie Hnene."

Hnene took a step forward, replying, looking at the floor.

"I have things from your family," Neytiri said, taking off the satchel. "They made these while you were with child. There are some things from Ngera, as well."

Hnene took the satchel, moving away to open it. The first item she removed was a baby carrier, a proper one. Neytiri hurried over to hold Astiri while Hnene put it on. Next came tiny ornaments – a baby's necklace, anklet, armband. There was also a remedy for after-birth pain, which Hnene eagerly took. She took one last look into the bag, then tied it to herself, pulling out a small quilted mat. "The pa'li – for me?" she asked Neytiri, who nodded. She approached the pa'li, placing the mat on it before making Tsahaylu and climbing on.

Neytiri took the other pa'li. "We will meet you there," she told Jake, leaning over to look him in the eye. "Ride the ikran, tell her family that the baby is well. We should arrive before the afternoon rain."

Jake nodded, calling his ikran. Norm did so too while the two women trotted off along the path.

"Should I even ask why you're here?" Jake asked.

"I got caught in the storm, and we bumped into each other," Norm said as the ikran landed. "Could've been anyone."

"Sure," Jake said. "Was that before or after Astiri was born?"

"Before."

They shared a steady look. Jake turned away – he couldn't ask, not about that. He desperately wanted to know about Na'vi birth, but at the same time, he didn't want to know anything that might put him off it.

They flew directly to the Tree of Souls, urged by the darkening clouds overhead. The weather was warm and humid, with strong winds.

When they arrived, a small crowd was already gathered at the edge of the hollow, where a fire had been built and a meal was being prepared. This was the baby Astiri's family: aunts, uncles – including Ote'lo, grandmothers and grandfathers, cousins. Jake counted fourteen.

Hnene's father approached. "Olo'eyktan, where is my grandchild?"

"She'll be here in a while," Jake said, dismounting. "Neytiri is riding pa'li with her."

"Fa'li," Kai corrected, "More than one pa'li, Olo'eyktan." The man looked away, obviously uncomfortable at having to correct his leader, but not ashamed by it. The Na'vi believed in mutual cooperation, and it was acceptable to challenge superiors. "Come, eat," Kai said, "It is the meat from the hunt," he added as the smells of cooking reached them.

Ote'lo was playing with a pair of older cousins, but upon seeing Jake ran over. "What does she look like?" he demanded.

"Pretty," Norm replied for Jake. "She looks like her mother, like you."

"How big is she?" a girl of thirteen asked.

Norm placed his hands twenty inches apart, "About this big."

Ote'lo gave Jake a shrewd look, his head titled to the side, "How big are Tawtute babies? This big?" he indicated an object the size of an apple.

Norm laughed, shaking his head. "About the same size, actually. Our babies are bigger compared to Na'vi, because we are smaller."

The children shared a look, noses wrinkled. "How does it fit then?" the girl demanded.

Jake pressed his lips together to prevent from smiling. "I don't know," Norm said. "They just do."

The children were bored by this answer. Jake guessed they were hoping for some shocking tale that involved tentacles and big teeth and maybe an egg. To the children of Na'vi, humans were like a fable, an exciting fairy tale. The two elder children wandered around the fire to poke the food, while Ote'lo hung around, still curious.

"Are they born with five fingers, or do you grow them later?" he asked.

"Born with them," Jake said, laughing regretfully.

"How many babies do Tawtute have? Hnene told me, when she went to school, that there were as many Tawtute as there are stars. Do you have hundreds of babies, like seeds?"

"No," Jake said. "We're like Na'vi," he said. Then he remembered something that might excite the boy. "But humans can have two or three at the same time, unlike Na'vi."

Ote'lo's nose wrinkled, his jaw dropped. "Yalana!" he yelled. "Tawtute have babies like nantang have puppies!"

The group of adults looked up in surprise – the two teen girls ran over.

"It's not like _that,"_ Norm said. "It's very rare."

Jake was looking at the adults. Most of them were politely pretending not to listen, but he saw the slightly confused, not quite disgusted turn of lips on a few.

"Have _you_ ever seen that?" the girl Yalana demanded.

Jake grinned. "Even better. I was one."

All the adults looked at him, pretences over, their expressions curious. Ote'lo looked awestruck. "_Really?"_ he breathed.

Jake nodded, the smile leaving his face. "I had a brother. We looked the same – we were called identical 'twins'." There was no Na'vi word for twin, so Jake used the English term. "But he's dead now," he added. The bewildered expressions were getting to him. "But you know, twins, it's not such a bad thing, even though you don't have them. They're very close – there is a bond, like Tsahaylu."

There was a pause. Then, "How to _they_ fit?" Yalana insisted.

"Yalana, 'evi, do not be so rude," a woman commanded – the girl's mother perhaps. "Stop pestering Olo'eyktan."

Jake couldn't help but smile at her persistent curiosity. "I don't mind answering," he said, "except I don't really know. It's just one of those things – it just happens. There's no choice. I guess the babies are just smaller, Yalana."

The girls sat down. "I wish I could see that," Jake heard the girl mutter to her cousins. "Maybe the chosen Tawtute will have them, and we will see."

Norm glanced at them – he'd heard that too. Jake wondered if the girl's hope was soon to be realised; but he didn't ask Norm for news from Hell's Gate.

Ote'lo grandmother came over, a leaf-plate of snacks in her hands. "Hush children, let us tell stories while we wait."

The little boy turned to Jake. "Tell us a Tawtute story! Oh, please, olo'eyktan."

Jake glanced at Norm. "Um," he said. "Don't you want to hear something else – I'm sure your grandmother knows a good story –"

"Oh, please," the girl next to Yalana piped up, "we've heard all those before. Come on, tell us, tell us!"

Norm leaned over, "Ugly Duckling?" he suggested.

"I haven't heard it in years," Jake complained. Norm rolled his eyes. "Fine," Jake said, turning, "but you're helping with the translation."

Although several of the adults were engaged in soft conversations and cooking, Jake knew they would be listening in – the children sat expectantly. "Okay," he said. "On earth, there are these animals which are like forest banshees called birds. There are some, who live near water, and are called 'ducks'..."

It was difficult to explain some parts, but in all the story was understood by the children. Thunder was rumbling by the time he finished. He looked up, and stood.

On the edge of the hollow, two figures on pa'li were dismounting. The adults had erected a temporary shelter over the fireplace, and it was raining by the time Neytiri and Hnene sprinted under it, shaking the wetness from their hair. Everyone crowded around Hnene to see the baby. Jake and Norm remained seated – the poor girl looked dazed from the sudden attention, and she held Astiri tight to her chest, unwilling to let her go. Neytiri went straight to Jake, curling herself at his side as he kissed her.

"You have to go out in that?" Norm said, gesturing to the torrential rain, "to the Tree of Souls?"

Neytiri nodded, "After we eat," she said in English.

Despite the rain, there was a general of festivity as people sat around eating and chatting, loudly over the rain. Norm sat quietly at their side, his eyes unfocused.

"You 'kay?"

Norm turned to Jake, blinking rapidly. "Sleep deprived," he answered.

Hnene looked up. "Go back to the Nest, and sleep, Norm," she said.

"I want to see this," Norm replied, sitting up straighter and setting his bowl aside.

Neytiri and Hnene walked out into the rain towards the glowing willow, a blurred presence through all the water, taking the baby with them. The rest of the crowd trailed behind, pausing to watch as the two women kneeled, carefully connecting Astiri to Eywa.

Jake crept forward with the others, eyes hungry. The baby gasped against her mother's shoulder, their queues connected together and to Eywa, her golden eyes wide, her luminescent spots so bright they reflected off Hnene's blue shoulder. Hnene's head was bent over – it took a while for Jake to realise that she was crying slightly. Rain, tears, who knew the difference? Both cleansed the soul in a way that no ritual bathing could.

Neytiri's face was bright with pride and joy; she gently whispered to Hnene, and they stood, returning to the fire. The family packed up quietly. They had a group of pa'li to take them home. Jake, Neytiri and Norm called to their ikrans through the storm. When they had returned to the Nest, Norm hurried off to sleep, his feet dragging as he struggled to keep the connection with his Avatar.

Jake and Neytiri lingered awake – it was not yet late. Neytiri led the way to the Seedling, where they sat looking out at the glowing jungle, backlit by the young Tree of Voices.

Neytiri took Jake's hand, holding it in both of hers. "Look," she said. "I have a new spot," and she was right: a new glowing spot, no bigger than a pinprick, was on the back of her hand.

"Why?" Jake asked.

"It is too early to tell," Neytiri said. "It could mean I am eating well, that riding Ghost is making me happy ... _or..._"

"Or?"

Neytiri rested her head on his shoulder. Her hair was still damp from the rain. Her tail curled around him.

"A child."

Jake pressed his lips to her forehead and then rested his head on top of hers, eyes on the spot. Was it just him or did it suddenly seem brighter? "But it's too early to tell," he repeated. "When _will _we know?"

"By the end of the season of rain?" Neytiri hedged.

"Hmm..." Jake closed his eyes. "Neytiri?"

"Yes, Jake?" she breathed.

"Why do Na'vi only get pregnant during the wet season? How?"

Neytiri pulled her head away, and they faced each other. "Grace asked my mother that once. The day before ..." Neytiri hissed to herself, turning her eyes back to the forest. "It was at the school. We were learning ... how to understand cocks."

"_What?"_ Jake cried.

Neytiri spun her finger, "The round thing, with the little sticks, to tell time."

Jake sighed in relief. "_Clocks,_ Neytiri. Don't say the other word."

She frowned. "What does the other one mean?"

Jake _ummed_ and _ahhed_ for several moments.

"Jake," she said in a sterner voice.

He gestured to his loincloth. "The boy thing –"

She glanced at his lap, then quickly away. Her shoulders began to shake and she laughed. Jake couldn't help but laugh also.

"Oh, oh," Neytiri tried to calm herself. "What were we speaking about?"

"Um, that would be ... _clocks_," Jake reminded himself.

Neytiri nodded. "Yes, you asked me ..." she thought for a moment, regaining her momentum. "We were talking to Grace of how we tell time by the ...'moons'. When our ceremonies happen, when hunting is good and food plentiful. That is why we have children now, for they will be born in time for the next New Year, for the ceremonies. It is to help Eywa keep balance, for there are times when there is much of one thing, and others where there is not."

Jake nodded. "That makes sense," he said.

Neytiri smiled. "In the future," Neytiri said, "there will be plenty for us."

"I hope so," Jake agreed.

* * *

_Earth, December 26th, 2154_

Roy Selfridge didn't do hot weather. Yet here he was, crossing the concrete runway of an RDA launch facility under a smog-covered sun, sweat patches forming on his expensive shirt. A technician hurried him along, clearly as eager to enter the air conditioned building as he was.

"What department are you in?"

"Communications," the man replied. "I just transferred from Mexico in September – I'm in charge of the superluminals, mostly. It's a damn bore since they cut off Pandora, now I only have to decode status reports from the ISVs."

They hurried to the door – the man pulled a keycard from his pocket and swiped it. Roy caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the man's wrist, a rabbit.

"High school?" Roy asked.

The man frowned in confusion.

"The tattoo," Roy said. "Was it a high school thing?"

The man glanced at his wrist, as if surprised to see the tattoo there, and pulled his long sleeve down to cover it. "Yeah, I've had that a long time." He fidgeted. "A girl, you know, what else?" He laughed uncomfortably, quickening his pace across the empty foyer.

"Selfridge!"

The two turned – a small, dowdy man was running towards them. "I have your solution, maybe –"

"Come with us," Selfridge turned in annoyance, continuing. The short man trotted beside them, his pale colourless hair plastered to his pink skin.

"You see, the thing is – and it's totally understandable, you have no training – the issue's not about deceleration, although basically it means we need more fuel that we have... but me and the boys were thinking," the man hesitated, he knew it wasn't his place to say such things, "but I mean, you got rid of the tree, didn't you – that was the issue, I heard – from Gordon-" this he added to the man with the rabbit tattoo, "the man before you, before he got sick – so the natives will have gone, so why not just go there?"

They were entering a lift, and Roy sighed in annoyance at the silly little scientist. They knew nothing of politics. "Yes, but the Blue Monkeys are still nearby, and they would fight. They're unreasonable. And they've got control of all our weapons now."

"They wouldn't use our weapons," the man with the rabbit tattoo said. Roy turned to him; and he'd thought this was a sensible man.

"Of course they would," he scoffed.

The man turned away, suddenly pale, as if he'd realised he'd said something wrong.

"You're absolutely right," he agreed.

The lift stopped, pinged open, and they stepped out into a glass-walled corridor, labs and devices on either side. They entered into the second on the right, a room mostly of screens and keyboards on desks, all the highest tech, all centred around a large column that went from floor to ceiling, six feet in diameter.

The man led him to the screen. "It's just here," he pointed to a corner of the screen, a little file. "Where do you want it?"

"On my phone, it's got security," Roy said, taking it out. With a flick of the finger, the man copied the file to the phone. Roy stepped back, pocketing the device. "Where is all the damn staff?"

"Lunch," the man said. "They're serving spaghetti, the real kind. Do you want to join them?"

Roy smiled grimly. "It's the only decent meal I'll get while I'm here," he said.

The man remained unmoved. "Third floor," he said, pulling out a keycard from his pocket, "here's your visitor's pass," He waved at the empty area, "I've had mine, and I have to stay here."

Roy took the keycard. "I'll see you around, then," he squinted at the man's identification card, figured he would just make a fool of himself trying to say the first name and ended with the man's surname instead, "Lee."

Lee nodded stiffly, sitting at his screen. The balding scientist squeezed himself into a chair as Roy left.

"Fuck," Lee whispered. "He saw my damn tattoo."

The balding scientist rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "Your fault for getting it on your wrist."

"I was eighteen, Bill."

The older man chuckled wheezily. "So... what else?"

Lee leaned towards the screen, opening the file he'd just copied to the phone of one of the biggest shareholders of the RDA. Oh, on the surface it was just a status report from Hell's Gate. But encrypted, hidden unless you have the most basic of hacking skills was extra information. Incrimination. Roy Selfridge would never be able to tell on Lee, if he ever had even a suspicion, without looking like a culprit himself.

"I still can't believe they killed the tree," Lee whispered. "It says here that they didn't even let the natives escape. If it was on Earth, they'd get hanged."

Bill sighed. "That's why we're here, Lee, mate. To protect them."

"How do you stand it?" Lee asked. "I've been here three months, and already I'm crazy from the waiting, the pretence. You've been here for years."

"Dedication waits," Bill said, heaving himself to his feet. "I'm gonna get some of that spaghetti. I'll get them to save some for you, eh?"

"Yes," Lee nodded. "I have work to do before the others get here."

* * *

**Author's Note: T**he whole floating seed dust – this is actually reminiscent of how corals breed on Earth. Cameron was supposedly inspired by coral reefs for the look of the Pandoran, so I took his seed of an idea, so to speak ...

And I made a banner ... it has a tagline, a clue, if you will and a tiny bit of fan art (but I promise, it looks good- the effect of miniature!). You can see it here at /avatar-fan-art-fan-fiction/6449-fanfic-hybrid-eilys-close dot html#post143197

Or here: /viewtopic dot php?f=13&t=1356


	9. New Stars

**Chapter Eight- New Stars**

_LADY MACBETH_

_Out, damned spot! out, I say! One; two: why, then, 'tis time to do 't._

* * *

One spot. Two, then three. Jake counted them, as they appeared on Neytiri's skin over the coming weeks and months. A fortnight would pass, until he'd almost forgotten about it, but then another knuckle would light up, and his breath would become choked again, waiting. Neytiri said nothing; she was unchanged otherwise. He held her hand to his lips when she slept, counting to himself.

Four spots. Five, then six.

"We must tell nobody," Neytiri said on the sixth, "not yet. Not until we are sure."

She glowed; against the nightly thunderstorms, a shadow of an idol, skin on his, in his, the embrace of life mates.

And the last spot, most unexpected of all.

* * *

The second spot arrived on the one month anniversary of Astiri's birth: this was a month of gift giving. Jake received a chey, a personal items rack, so heavily decorated and carefully made it was no wonder it had taken months to make. It hung beside Neytiri's, looking empty, but it soon filled. This was Jake's life now; filling.

Two more children were born in this time – both boys, and Neytiri took them with their families to the Tree of Souls. Mo'at led all other spiritual matters; she was vague when Jake privately asked her why her daughter had taken over this seemingly important role. "This she must understand now."

This was the season of fruit eating; the air was sweet, rotting with damp sugared flesh. Children ran around hyper on sugar – Norm's 'shutters' were found to have a new use, paddled around the lake in the early morning like unturned umbrellas; blues, purple and green scales on the surface of the water, which sparkled with fish-like creatures beneath the surface.

Avatar drivers made fleeting visits, looking foreign in their trousers and boots. They seemed shocked by Norm's newfound distaste for clothing and Jake's regalia of quills, beads and feathers, his standard wear. Their sentences were odd no matter what language they spoke.

The third spot arrived two weeks later, discovered when washing the mud from their skin. It was a popular game among children, to colour the skin with the russet earth and creep amongst the plants with a fern attached to the head to appear like so many walking trees. This was to practise tracking and stalking skills; Jake had to learn first in order to become a teacher.

Ote'lo was like a loveable leech. He demanded English lessons so Norm began to give classes to the Omaticaya again, of sorts. This was little more than a story at dinner-time, with all eating listening in. The children liked this new language: "Rapunzel, Rapunzel," he heard them cry as they climbed vines one day – or later, whacking sticks together: "Vroom, vroom, I am a Jedi master!" The Na'vi children learned the folk tales of a far-away world that was almost a fairy-tale in and of itself. They used it to gossip without their parents understanding.

Jake sat next to Neytiri, staring at her new spot as Norm gave his next instalment of Tarzan at the fire pits – the children liked this one, the forest was easy to imagine – when Astiri began to cry. Hnene had crept close, her eyes bright with the idea of a man whom Norm had described as living with a prolemuris tribe. She hushed her baby, but the girl waved her arms about, squealing louder still.

This brought on complaints – Norm told everyone to leave them alone, or he'd not finish the story. Hnene mouthed _irayo_.

Jake's fingers traced the new spots.

The fourth spot, found upon waking one morning. The golden dust had begun to clear; they were halfway through the wet season. Were they fish? It felt like it – they breathed water, saw water, floating in the warm eddies of the lake near where it flowed away to a river. On one side of the lake rocks rose up; water crashed and slipped over and down, littered on the ferns. That was the sound of the forest now, the _drip, drip, drip_ at night was the tiny heartbeat Jake constantly heard now.

Time could be broken into this procession: sunrise, heat and wind, then a storm in the afternoon, again at night. Repetition. Drip drop, drip drop.

They took every chance to go flying during those rare hours of clear sky, travelling to the hills to watch the herds migrate. To see them was to see their calves, their fawns and pups. This was hide and seek; peekaboos in the forest.

Jake rode Atan, simultaneously above him and one with him. Neytiri's Ghost was full of life. She was meant to be in the sky, as a cloud, white and pure, with that rumbling screech. Lighting to her prey, she was the angel of death.

The fifth spot appeared during the return journey from a pilgrimage to the old Hometree. The land was covered in knee-high growth, the wooden carcass already in the embrace of vines. The Omaticaya spread over the burnt out area like a soothing blanket. A hand caressing a stem here, a finger tracing a leaf there, a seed dropped into a muddy patch in passing. This was not like a visit to a cemetery. Eywa wastes nothing: she moves on, the hand of time pointing the world forward and urging new life to graph and map and colonise what had been scoured.

They slept under waterproof shelters as designed by Norm: featherweight, boat-sized umbrellas. The rain continued to drip, seemingly in mourning for what had been lost.

"Fire be damned" were the first words he'd ever heard Neytiri say, though he hadn't been able to understand her at the time, and she had been correct. What right did fire have, to remove life like this? But even unwelcome it had a purpose, giving the dead a funeral of a found a skull in the remains of Kelutral, and who knew who it had belonged to. It was Jake who found it: he tripped, coming face to face with it. He'd always thought skulls would smell, but this one had been washed clean by the rain. He lay there, stuck in a staring contest, until Mo'at reached him. She picked it up with care. Jake slowly got to his feet, eyes still on the skull.

The thing about the skull was that it shimmered slightly a silver blue, like it had a pearly or metallic gloss finish. This must have been the carbon fibre. He knew what a human skull looked like; comparatively the skull of a Na'vi was smoother, the eye sockets much larger and taking up half the face, with the brows smoothly ascending to the hairline. At the back of the head near the crown was a star-shaped hole the width of a finger. It wasn't a bullet hole, but rather where the queue went.

They gave it the proper rights, flowers. The whole tribe circled around to watch.

And that night, a new star lit up on Neytiri's knuckle, which Jake kissed.

The sixth was during a hunt. Slicing the meat into manageable pieces, arms splattered, blood running in rivulets, like external veins as the rain began. This spot revealed a new thing: they formed a spiral on her right hand, which, if Jake were to hazard a guess, would continue to grow, a galaxy on her skin to signify the new world that he hoped – for yes, by now he was hoping – was forming within her.

That night, bellies full with roasted meat, he lay his head against her stomach as she slept, wondering, was she firmer? Or was that just the food?

The solstice came one month before the end of the monsoon season. "Solstice" was the English translation, although Norm explained that was just a cultural analogy, to which Jake had reminded him that he had never paid attention during world history at school, anyway. Three moons had lined up at the rim of Polyphemus. It was dawn; the flute bearers were laying the case in front of Jake, who sucked in the cold morning air. It was the first clear morning in months – the periods between rain were lengthening.

The sun's first light touched the horizon as Jake lifted the instrument and blew one long high pitched note. One drummer beat a slow rhythm – _dum da dut-dut dum da dut-dut_ – the singers, three young girls and a boy sat playing a rope game while they sang, "_Tompayä kato, tsawkeyä kato, Trrä sì txonä, Sì ayzìsitä kato, si'ekong te'lanä, Te'lanä le-Na'vi, Oeru teya si, Oeru teya si."_

_The rhythm of the rain and sun, Of night and day; The rhythm of the years; And the beat of the hearts; Hearts of the people; Fills me, fills me..._

Slowly the Omaticaya emerged, drawn in by the song. They took their places, some whispering along to the words of the song.

Jake replaced the flute, moving to take his seat in the front row beside Neytiri, closing his eyes as the voices of the Omaticaya crashed over him like a wave as he made the connection with his queue. Suddenly his hand was being squeezed and he opened them. Neytiri had forced her hand into his, staring at the back of hers. He followed her line of vision. A seventh spot glowed brightly. A seventh spot glowed brightly where it had not been an hour before.

Jake looked up, his eyes narrowed at her in question. Neytiri clutched his hand, turning both over until it was his that rested on hers.

The eighth spot was on _his_ skin.

Jake sucked in a breath, turning to pay attention to Mo'at. Her words were lost on him.

The day's festivities were carried out under the haze of intoxication, both of the liquid kind and his own confusion. He couldn't stop looking at that spot on his hand. There was a dance that involved the children dressing as ikran and being thrown in the air, their leather wings catching like sails for a brief flight, squealing like the young ikran they embodied. Jake spun, wheeling and whirling, losing all sense of direction. It was just him with the beat of the pendulum drums and the hands of his fellow dancers.

Norm sat before a slab of smooth stone that rose far above the water, using the light from a bladder lantern to make shadow puppets with his hands. Beside him the fire pits hissed as fine rain fell into it and was evaporated.

"This is a rabbit," Norm said. "He jumps, and sniffs..."

A boy experimented, then stood with a yell. "An ikran, look, I have made," he said, stumbling over his English. "Fly, see it."

"I make yerik!" They sat cross-legged, arms up making shadow puppets.

Jake crouched, placing his wrists together and clawing his fingers. "Look, a palulukan! _Rawwr!"_

Norm put all his fingers straight, thumb up, and crooked his first finger and dropping his pinky, "Arroooo! Arrooo!"

The children looked in awe as Jake joined in the wolf-call. "It's a Tawtute warcry?" mused a coupled as they watched on. Then the children joined, running off between the legs of relatives and friends, howling to the light of the moons.

"You are drink-crazy," Neytiri whispered to him as he flung himself towards the drummers, asking for a turn.

"Drunk, yes," Jake laughed, picking her up. She looked down at his face, a smile on her face. "It means what I think it means, doesn't it?" he asked, kissing her hand on his shoulder.

"You must put me down," Neytiri said with a laugh.

"But it does?"

Neytiri sighed, "Yes, Jake. And now you must tell my mother."

He dropped her a bit harder than he'd intended. "What, now?"

"Yes," she said. "There is no problem?"

"Well," Jake said, releasing her and stepping back, "it's just ... busy, right? She won't want to hear it now."

"Now is a good time," Neytiri affirmed, turning and walking through the crowd.

Jake chased after her, catching her wrist. "Hey, hey, can't we, I dunno – let's talk about this first, I mean, what do we say?"

"I am not saying anything," Neytiri said. She shook his hand off her wrist, gesturing back the way they'd come. "My mother is over there."

Jake's hands dropped limp at his side. "I have to go without you?"

"Yes."

"_Why?"_

"If your mother was here, I would be telling her now," Neytiri said. She glanced down, biting her lip. "It is the way."

Jake turned grudgingly, trying to think through his intoxication headache.

_Hey Mo'at. Neytiri is pregnant. You're a grandmother!_

He paused by the fireplace, grabbing a bite to eat. As he chewed, he edged around the crowd congregated there.

Mo'at was sitting on the other side, in conversation with a few of the tribe elders. Seeing Jake, they greeted him happily, telling him to sit in their midst – which was unfortunately as a far as possible from Mo'at. Jake struggled to reply to their welcomes, the food gluing his teeth together. He put a hand up, half-smiling and half-grimacing.

"I was just telling Mo'at that the herds will have migrated back by the end of the wet season," an elderly man told Jake, who nodded and gulped his last mouthful down.

"That will be good for the hunters," Jake said weakly, choking slightly.

Several times he tried to get Mo'at to have a private conversation with him, but the elders had much to speak of.

"That boy," said one, pointing to one of the newest ikran riders, "he should not be with that girl."

"My granddaughter should have him. I will tell his parents," replied another man. "It is bad – these days, the young ones think they can take any Na'vi as their life-mate," he looked around the circle, his eye resting uncomfortably on Jake for several moments.

"Yes, it can create difficulties," said Mo'at to the man, giving Jake a sidelong glance – but the corners of her lips twitched in consolation.

"Jake," she turned to him fully now, "you came here for a reason. Tell us why you sit with us now, when you could be dancing with my daughter."

Jake took a deep breath. "I'm going to have a baby."

For a moment, he was greeted with silence. Then several faces crumpled into confusion, others into laughter. Jake frowned, wondering how his Na'vi had stuffed up this time. He was getting better at speaking, but of course, when he was under stress, he sometimes said something wrong.

Mo'at leaned forward curiously. "Is this how it is done with Tawtute, Jake?"

"Um. No, Neytiri told me I had to – I've never done anything like this before, I don't know what I'm doing ..." Jake turned in confusion at the old man beside him who was wheezing, bent over the floor, slapping his hand down as he cried with laughter.

Mo'at looked nonplussed. "I am sure my daughter would not have," she told Jake.

"She did, she told me that I had to tell you –"

The elder on Jake's left touched his arm, leaning towards his ear, "Olo'eyktan, you said you will have the baby inside you. Is this what you meant?"

Jake looked at the woman, eyes wide. The glancing at the still cackling man on his right, he said hurriedly, "No, no, I'm sorry, I said it wrong. _Neytiri_ is going to have a baby. Both of us. As life mates."

Mo'at smiled hugely; he was sure she'd been teasing him. She stood up, arms wide, engulfing him in a tight embrace, his face pressed against her decorative shawl. She leaned back, hands tight on his biceps, and sighed happily. Jake was close enough that he could see the wet glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"You are ready for this, Jake, my son," she said. She stepped back, sitting down, a hand on the blade at her neck. "This is good. Let us have more to eat!"

Jake and the elders continued to talk for several hours. In this time Neytiri carefully joined them, her eyes on her mother, who, apart from her festive mood, gave no indication of knowing what she did. The moons were high when as one the elders all stood, complaining of old bones and need of sleep. They moved off as one, laughing towards the Nest. Mo'at stayed behind with Neytiri and Jake.

She took Neytiri's hand, inspecting the spiral of new spots. She looked to Jake, holding out her other hand, and he rested it on hers. She inspected his spot, nodding with satisfaction to herself.

"It is healthy," she decided. "Let me-" she dropped their hands, crouching and pressing her ear to Neytiri's flat stomach. "It is quiet." She turned to Jake, peering at him, "Can you hear it?"

Jake stood by Neytiri and frowned. "No."

"Through the Tsahaylu," she clarified impatiently.

Jake's brow creased, and he allowed the connection to fully open, more than he usually let it. Luckily, with so many Omaticaya asleep, it was mostly quiet.

He concentrated, harder, listening, not knowing what he was meant to hear. Then, faintly, a small beat could be heard. Jake crouched, and it grew louder just slightly. It was feather light, a wet sound, and deep. Focusing on that only, he was submerged – his skin felt warm, there was no concept of light or dark, of seeing anything. Just that heartbeat.

"It can hear you," Jake murmured in astonishment to Neytiri. "It's listening to your heartbeat."

Neytiri rested a hand on his head. "Can we leave?" she asked her mother, who nodded.

Neytiri began to stride towards the Nest. Climbing up the inner spiral, they bumped into Norm. "Hey guys, what's up?" Norm mumbled sleepily.

Jake beamed at Norm. "We're going to have a baby," Jake announced proudly. Norm nodded, his eyes half-closed.

"That's good..." he mumbled, pushing his way into his sleeping quarters. Jake smirked at Neytiri. He knew Norm had been too sleepy to understand him. It would be more fun in the morning.

As soon as they were completely alone, Neytiri pulled him down onto their bed, reaching for his queue. "I want to hear," she demanded.

Jake lay on his side, propped up on his elbow and handed her the end of his queue. Her face was fervent.

Jake closed his eyes, focusing on that tiny thread of consciousness, knowing when her breath quickened that she could hear it too. They both listened as her heartbeat raced.

Neytiri slid closer and began to kiss him. Jake rolled onto his back, cupping her face. Looking into her eyes, he noticed his hand glowing. He pulled it away, and they both looked at the back of it, where a matching spiral to Neytiri's had formed.

"So how much longer?" Jake whispered.

"I do not know," Neytiri confessed. "After six months, the belly," she touched her belly button absently, "begins to grow. Then, four months later... the baby..."

"But before then? There's no way of knowing?" She shook her head. Jake smiled regardless, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close...

_The forest glowed golden. Young hatchlings filled the air with their keening. Flowers bloomed, the air dusty with spores. Everything was humid, dripping, and there was damage around him that signified that there'd been a thunderstorm. His Tsahaylu whispered, a constant chatter of life. _Eywa_, whispered a few lonely voices of Omaticaya People._

_He turned to his left, to the sound of laughter.__ He smiled, moving in that direction, following the giggles. He knew that dotted through this part of the forest were tens of Omaticaya collecting fruit._

_Then the forest before him exploded – bullets shredded leaves, powering through fruit and flowers. A large bug fell to the floor, twitching. Jake flattened himself to the ground, heart pounding, not daring to even lift his head. The barrage of fire was moving away, and he could hear crashing, screams._

_Three bursts of colour through the Tsahalyu – deaths, but they were not Neytiri, but that meant nothing, she was still out there, along with all the others, all of them unarmed, for who took their bows with them on a fruit picking expedition? Any of those screams could be her._

_He struggled to his knees, when another volley of bullets splattered through the fern in front of him, and he rolled, flattening himself down._

_He was helpless._

_Above him, the roar of Samsons drowned out the sounds of the forest, only broken by the cries of his people._

Jake sat up quietly, holding his breath, letting Neytiri sleep on. He often had disturbed sleep these days, but it was not often that he actually remembered the dreams. This one, he sensed, must have been different.

Jake stood up carefully, pulling back the cover of green hide that blocked the elements. The night was clear, cool. The rainy season was beginning to come to an end. He frowned, ears angled forwards.

Soft, but he could hear it; the dull drone of a Samson in the distance. Glancing at Neytiri, he replaced the cover and grabbed his knife, quiver and bow from his chey and slipped soundlessly through the softly glowing sponge into the inner spiral. He hurried as fast as he could from the Nest, splashing through ankle deep water that had covered the beach on the south side of the lake all during the wet season. Against the pale sky of predawn, the smudge that must have been the Samson was descending between trees. Jake strode purposefully in that direction. Within twenty minutes he'd reached it. He ducked behind foliage, squinting with suspicion.

Five Avatars leaned against the hull, arguing over a map.

Jake straightened up and strolled into view. "Fancy meeting you here, in my neck of the woods," he drawled with a smile.

The scientists – he didn't know them by name – all looked up in unison and immediately scrambled forward, the map forgotten.

"Wow," one of them said, stopping short in front of him. Jake noticed two of them sharing a look. He cocked his head at them, waiting for an explanation of their arrival.

"So, how's life?" One said awkwardly. The woman next to him elbowed the man sharply in the ribs.

"Norm told us that Neytiri is pregnant," she told Jake bluntly. "Is it true?"

Jake blinked. "Uh, yes. I didn't think he was listening," he said, grinning. "We wear him out, here."

The woman was shaking her head in annoyance. "He's not going to be up for a while, but that's not the point. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Sorry?" Jake frowned.

The woman exhale impatiently. "You, an Avatar, getting a Na'vi pregnant. What the _hell_ were you thinking?"

Jake glanced between the scientists in confusion. "I'm still not getting you guys."

The woman glared at the man beside her. "Greg, you explain it."

The man gave Jake an apologetic look. "It's dangerous, or didn't you figure?"

"It is?" Jake narrowed his eyes, "How so?"

The woman huffed again, cutting across Greg, "It's like a damn experiment, that's why," she said. "Norm told me you were slow, but ... " she glared, crossing her arms. "It's a damn genetic experiment. Do you know how long it took them to get Avatars working? I worked in the lab, you know, they had at least a hundred bodies before they worked it out, mostly embryos and foetuses, but then ... the others were a mess, extra arms and organs on the outside, or no heads. Forty percent spina bifida. It took years to get the mixture right, and whatever the hell you've got growing in that mate of yours, could quickly become a tumour, to put no finer point on it."

Jake took a stunned step back. "Fuck..." he glanced over his shoulder towards the Nest. "Why'd nobody warn me about this?"

The woman shrugged. "Never crossed our minds, Jake," she muttered angrily. "Of all the stupid things –"

"Louise, will you lay off him," one of the other men murmured. "She's Catholic," he added to Jake.

Jake's face screwed up. "And yet you worked in a genetics lab?"

The woman Louise rolled her eyes. "Religion changes," she said, "but I'm still anti-abortion," she growled. Then she stomped towards the Samson.

Jake looked at Greg. "I don't understand, why would ..." he trailed off. "No!" he growled. _"Oh no,"_ he pushed past, catching up to Louise, "You're not _touching_ it."

Louise jutted out her jaw, arms clinging around herself. "You think I'm damn happy about this?"

Jake wheeled on the others, "So this is a 'group' decision, is it?" he snarled.

"Whoa," Greg said, holding his hands up, "It is in no way like that. The _reason_ we came here was so we can take her back to Hell's Gate, get some tests done – we'll run the Avatar diagnostics – we still got them from when they were still shipping Avatars, hopefully that will work. Then, if our findings are ... concerning, there is the option of preventing you and Neytiri any further grief. RDA couldn't impose anti-contraceptives as a company policy, so we do actually have after-contraceptive methods, if you will." He grimaced at his own bad word choice.

Jake swore several times, a hand spanning his forehead as he squeezed his temples. He dropped the hand, balling it into a fist. "Now?" he hissed.

"The faster we get the tests, the better," Greg said. "But of course, if you want to have breakfast first ..."

Jake scowled. "You should probably have some too," he said. "Come on, they'll be cooking by now."

He knew it wasn't the scientist's fault, but the way they'd leapt to the worst conclusions had put a definite damper on his previously joyful mood. As he guided them towards the Nest, he glanced constantly at the spiral of seven dots on the back of his hand, growing dull as daylight grew stronger.

Neytiri rushed to them when they walked out onto the western fire pits, the biggest ones on the rock-shelf where all celebrations were held. Ignoring the newcomers, she beamed at Jake. "Jake," she murmured huskily, brushing her fingers along his cheek. She peeked at the five Avatars. "Hello. Norm did not tell us you were coming here," she said.

The group smiled tightly at her, not saying a word. They kept glancing at Jake, all through breakfast, until Neytiri noticed and leaned sideways murmuring, "Why are they staring at me?"

"I'll tell you in a bit," Jake replied, swallowing his last mouthful with difficulty.

The Omaticaya were mostly still asleep, resting from the previous day's celebrations. The few who were awake drifted off to attend to their tasks. Jake, Neytiri and the Avatars managed to slip away around the Lake to a secluded area.

"Jake, you must tell me, why are you..." she paused for a moment, searching for the right word, "crazy?"

"Maybe I am," Jake muttered. He turned her to face the scientists. "The baby could be sick," he told her quietly.

Neytiri's hand jumped to her stomach – Jake realised with a lurch that she was showing, but so slightly that only he, who knew every inch of what she looked like, would be able to notice. "How do they know?"

Greg stepped forward to answer. "Because Jake is an Avatar, the genes could be –"

Neytiri shook her head. "I do not know this word 'jeens'?"

Greg frowned, and a second woman cut in, "The things that make you and Jake one, into the baby."

Neytiri nodded. "But we are life mates, what could be wrong?"

"Well, the thing is, Jake has human genes too. And they may not fit with yours. It could make the baby sick, and you," the woman tried to explain.

Neytiri placed her hand on Jake's chest, her eyes holding his questioningly. "You are angry?"

"They want us to kill it," Jake told her bluntly.

"No, no – " they protested, "We want to run tests," Greg reiterated.

Neytiri's ears had plastered to her skull, and Jake could tell she was close to snarling. "The tests will tell me if our baby is sick?"

They replied with silent nodding.

Neytiri stepped forward, tail lashing, holding her hand in a balled fist visible to the five Avatars. "We come, you do tests," she told them, "then you tell us the news, and we leave." She opened the fist. "Then Eywa will decide."

The Avatars shared a look. Jake felt anger bubble inside him – he knew that look, had probably worn it himself – the look that said _silly natives_, the look that assumed greater knowledge of how the world worked – the look of a person completely ignorant of the reality of Eywa. Then, as one, the Avatars began to walk back to their ship. Neytiri and Jake quickly over took the tripping scientists. They reached the Samson in half an hour.

The third Avatar man squeezed himself into the cockpit. The seat had been moved back as far as possible, but his knees were still crammed up. Jake realised that the pilot was the smallest Avatar, but that was not saying much. A woman and a man then pulled backpacks from the ship. "We're not coming," they told Jake. "We're doing some extra surveying in the area. Besides, we wouldn't all fit."

Jake gave the Samson a critical look. He wasn't sure how the four passengers were going to fit comfortably anyway – the ship had been originally designed with humans in mind. He and Neytiri climbed in. Jake made sure Neytiri was holding tight while the others joined them and the rotors started up.

Jake poked his head in the cockpit. "How'd you learn to fly anyway?" he asked the pilot.

The man grimaced. "How different is it from a games console, eh?" he joked weakly, pulling on a lever.

Jake crawled back to Neytiri, who was looking at the interior with lowered ears. "We will not fly," she said, "This is too heavy."

Before Jake could answer, the Samson leapt into the air suddenly. All four passengers fell back, crushing each others with a cry of complaint.

"Sorry!" yelled the pilot, bashing his elbow as he steadied the Samson above the tree line.

The ride was jerky, difficult. Neytiri kept her eyes on the horizon, looking pale. It was after midday by the time they slammed against the runway at Hell's Gate. Before the rotors had even been turned off, Neytiri had leapt from the Samson, placing both her hands and feet on the hand concrete.

"You want to kiss it?" Jake joked, crouching beside her.

Neytiri looked at him, shook her head, and stood up slowly. Following her own eyes, Jake looked at the buildings of Hell's Gate and remembered a time when those concrete cells had seemed safe and comforting. Now he saw the barbed wire surrounding the place and realised it wasn't a refuge; it was a prison.

The concrete was hot underfoot, even to his calloused feet. The pilot told whoever was still at Hell's Gate that they'd arrived and they all walked towards the Avatar area. Jake stepped between the crops with relief, feeling dirt under his feet.

"Can you go through there?" Greg asked, pointing across the basketball court towards the Avatar hospital. "We're just going to link out, and we'll see you in a few."

The Avatars headed for the bunks while Jake and Neytiri crossed to the building, finding the door ajar. Neytiri's eyes were on everything as they walked through the doorway. The two Na'vi-sized hospital gurneys were still there; in fact the room was exactly as Jake remembered it. He stood at the glass watching as the human forms of the Avatars emerged from link chambers, putting on exo masks and disappearing into the airlock. With a hiss, they stepped into the room with Jake and Neytiri, looking like little brown children.

"Can you sit there?" Louise asked Neytiri, pointing to the bed. Neytiri glanced at Jake, then sat. Jake sat beside her. Greg approached with a needle.

"We need blood. Can we have your arm, Neytiri?"

Neytiri held out her arm warily, hissing when they began to take the blood.

"This is ... savage," she growled, watching her own blood flow out of her into a test tube.

Greg smiled regretfully. "Just wait until the urine sample."

Neytiri turned to Jake. "What is that?" she asked.

He whispered the Na'vi word in her ear. Her nose wrinkled and she grimaced.

"Right," Greg finished taking the blood sample. "Here's a bandaid – " He placed it on her arm. "Sorry, we don't have blue, unfortunately."

There was a knock on the glass. They looked up to see Max wave. "Hey Jake."

"You guys are all assholes," Jake said. But then he smiled. "How you doing?"

Max shrugged. "I'm not the one in there," he said.

Louise approached with a tiny sample cup. "Neytiri ... if you could just put the urine sample in here," she asked, turning red behind her exo mask.

Neytiri took the cup – which was tiny, human sized, with distaste. "I am not doing it here," she said.

Louise flushed, "Oh, no –" she hurried to the second door, opening it on a corridor. "At the end, go through there –"

Jake stood up. "Idiots," he said. "When would Neytiri have ever used a bathroom?" He took Neytiri's hand. "Come on, I'll give you the guided tour."

He and Neytiri walked down the Avatar sized corridor, seeing open doors into a couple of isolated wards, equipment rooms, a lab, and pushed their way into the unisex bathroom at the end. Jake blinked – it was all set out and equipped for an Avatar, not a human, with everything scaled up and larger. There was that familiar bar alongside the toilet and in the shower cubicle which had no curtain. Everything was white, pristine and probably rarely used.

"Okay," Jake sighed. "This is the toilet," he pointed. "Sit on it. Press that button when you're done And here, turn this and water comes out." He kissed her forehead. "I am so sorry about all of this."

Neytiri shook her head. "This is not your fault," she told him in Na'vi. "Eywa would not have let this happen, whatever this is, unless she knew it would help the balance."

Jake pressed his forehead to hers then left the room, closing the door gently behind him and returning to Max and the others. Neytiri joined them shortly, slamming down the cup indignantly.

"This way," Louise urged, "Come on, an MRI," she led the way down the corridor to a room with a huge cylindrical object. "Jake, into there," she pointed to a little room with bulletproof glass and displays on desks.

She then helped Neytiri to get onto the bench, ordering her to "Stay _still,"_ while two other scientists fixed various aspects. Greg sidled into the room, pulling off a wedding ring and a watch, placing them in a box which disappeared into the wall. Jake stood awkward – the furniture here was human sized. Louise came in, glancing at Jake and then frowning. "That earring, it's metal?"

Jake touched his ear. "Oh. Yeah."

"You have to take it out," she said. "In the box –" she was taking off a cross from around her neck as she spoke.

Jake crossed his arms. "Sorry, no can do."

Greg sighed. "Is it a cultural thing?"

"If you like," Jake said. "Besides, I got another bit on me, and I'm not gonna risk it. I can't take any of it off."

"You have to leave, then," Louise said. "Metal is dangerous. That's a huge electromagnet in there." She glanced through the glass, "Neytiri doesn't have any metal, does she?" she asked worriedly. Jake shook his head.

"How far do I have to go?"

"End of the corridor should be fine," Louise said. Jake left.

Even there, staring up at Max, who was looking at something on his screens intently, Jake could hear a horrible banging and whirring from the MRI noise. Then Louise was storming down the corridor. "It's not working," she told Max.

Max stood, paused, and said, "Let me check something," then turned to his screen, swiping his finger. Then he swore, "Shit. What's wrong? The com lines are down."

Louise looked at Jake. "What metal is that, do you know?" she asked.

"Unobtanium," Jake said. "Why?"

Max stood up, hurrying to the glass wall. "That thing? Louise, look how small it is, it couldn't be –"

"Well, what other explanation do you have?" she said. Neytiri and Greg came in.

"We could do a normal x-ray," Greg suggested.

"No," Louise said. "We need soft-tissue scan. Jake, get yourself to the other side of Hell's Gate will you?"

Jake looked up at Max. "This is ridiculous. I've been here twenty minutes. Why didn't you notice earlier, if it was me?"

"I don't keep a constant eye on the comms," Max said. "Please, Jake."

"Fucking hell," Jake said, storming out of the building.

When he returned, a full circuit of Hell's Gate later, Neytiri was sitting outside between the rows of plants. Jake joined her. "Sorry," he muttered. "This whole thing is just pissing me off."

She looked up, braids swinging. "I would not like to be a sick human," she said.

Jake sighed, sitting down. "Yeah," he said as he rubbed his eye. "Did they find out anything?"

Neytiri shook her head, looking sideways at a stalk, reaching out to stroke the leaves. "We must wait," she said, "They say we must stay."

She dropped her hand. "The woman, Louise. She ... she tells me to pray."

Jake took a deep breath. "She's religious," he said, "Some of them are like that, no matter what."

Neytiri looked down. Sunlight shone through her hair. "This place," she whispered, "It is dead. If I stay here ..."

Jake reached over, hugging her. "I'm with you," he whispered, "Never forget that."

She clutched him, breathing in his scent. She pulled back. "I must eat," she said. "If this baby is not sick, I will not make it sick."

They stood up, walking slowly through the field, picking ripe fruit to eat. There was no way Jake wanted the dry rations the scientists were no doubt eating. As the shadows grew long, ten scientists including Norm came out, basking in the light by sprawling on a small hillock of grass in the Avatar training area. Jake and Neytiri chewed on their own meal, fingers dripping with juice to the scientist's jealous glares.

Max was looking as casual as Jake had ever seen him, lab coat gone, laying down. Neytiri was looking at his face curiously. "Something the matter?" he asked her.

Neytiri pressed her lips together, then asked, "Why are you a different colour?"

The humans glanced at each other. Neytiri, whose human contact had mostly been limited to Avatars and brief glances at soliders behind exo-masks, wasn't to know about human races. As it was, she did not recognise that Greg was Hispanic, that a man and a woman on her left were Chinese, a third woman whose linage consisted of grandparents from Borneo, Indonesia and Cambodia, that Louise's blond hair was from a German mother. Max's dark skin was the most noticeable difference – a difference that all the scientists barely noticed.

"Neytiri, that's not polite," Jake warned.

She cocked her head. "I am sorry," she told Max.

Max shook his head, "Don't be silly Jake, I know she's just curious. Neytiri, I've got darker skin because I come from a – a different tribe, I guess, than Jake. And Greg, he's from a different one, and Angus and Mei-Fay here, and Wendy from another, and ... don't Na'vi from different tribes look different?"

Neytiri shook her head, "No, we are all blue."

The scientists chuckled. "Really?" Max asked. "How do you tell who comes from what tribe, then?"

"Their spots," Neytiri said, as if the answer were obvious. "The more a Na'vi knows another, the more their spots are like the other. See- " she picked up Jake's hand, holding it out against her own, "we will be exactly the same." She pointed to her forehead, "These are my mother's ... " her hand trailed down her neck, "my father's."

Max sat up, taking Jake's hand. "I logged all your spots when we first made your Avatar. These are new."

"They grew yesterday," Jake said, pulling back his hand. "It's how we knew Neytiri was pregnant."

"Cool," Norm said, shuffling over to take a look.

"So," Max continued to Neytiri, "there are spots that show you what tribe someone belongs to?"

"Yes," Neytiri said. "On the nose." She touched her own. "Every Na'vi is born different, but for each tribe, there are some that are ..." she frowned, struggling to articulate something that all Na'vi knew. "Spots match the stars," she said finally.

"What?"

Neytiri pointed to the sky. "The stars. Tribes see different stars, the stars are on their faces."

The scientists were whispering excitedly. "That is so cool," Norm said. "But what about the Avatars? They weren't born here."

"That is why the stars are of no tribe," Neytiri said. "Except the stars of Jake, and soon, your stars, Norm."

Jake touched his own face wonderingly.

Max was standing up. "Greg, can we see your Avatar?"

"Sure," Greg answered. The rest of them stood up. It was dusk now. Max hurried excitedly to the Avatar bunks. Switching on a light, he hurried to Greg's Avatar. Above the bunk was a screen, which lit up. Jake and Neytiri followed the group, stand at the doorway.

"What month were you born, Greg?"

"July thirtieth," Greg replied. "It's on my profile."

Max brought up the profile, nodded to himself, then flicked through files on the screen. "Let's see ... Where were you born?"

"L.A."

"So ... " Max grumbled, spending several minutes, then, "Got it!"

A star chart unfolded on the screen. Max quickly inspected it, then scrutinised Greg's Avatar. "I don't see anything," he said.

Norm stood up straight. "Maybe because Greg's _Avatar_ wasn't born then and there."

Max smiled, turning back to the computer. Another few minutes of frantic squabbling with the system later, he'd pulled up another star chart. "That's at five months incubation, which is equivalent to a full term Na'vi pregnancy," Max said.

"Look at that," Wendy said. "Orion."

The scientists all started, leaning over to inspect Greg's Avatar.

"That's ... amazing," Greg said. "We have to document this."

"Already doing it," Max said. "I hate this software," he muttered as the display beeped twice, then a _da-da-ding _to indicate he had been successful. The scientists began to file out, heading for the main building. Norm paused in the doorway, looking at Jake and Neytiri.

"Seriously, if I'd known they were going to do all this to you, I wouldn't have said anything," Norm said sincerely. "Congratulations."

Jake nodded. "I guess we're supposed to sleep in here tonight?"

"You could push two bunks together," Norm suggested. "We don't bother with the surveillance cameras anymore."

"You guys seem happy here," Jake said, walking to the light switch. He preferred to use moonlight. Norm's exo mask automatically began to glow slightly in the darkness.

"We get on," Norm said, shrugging. "You guys better sleep. Max and the others will be onto you two like flies tomorrow. You know that Janine and Peter are collecting samples of plants they think will be suitable for Earth use today ..."

Jake was silent, then, "I'd almost forgotten that conversation."

"_I'm_ not having it with you, but Max is dying to convince you," Norm warned. "I better go." His hand caught the doorway. "Neytiri, do you want me to tell your mother not to expect you?"

Neytiri replied that yes, that would be good.

Norm left, his seemingly short figure walking down the steps and out of sight.

Jake wrenched a bed to join another. "Home sweet home," he said sarcastically. "Come here."

Neytiri crawled onto the mattress into his arms.

"This is a very lonely place."

A flock of forest banshees screeched past. Jake held her tighter. "I have you."

"And I have you, Jake."

* * *

**Author's Note:** You may have noticed I've changed the layout a bit. What can I say, I'm saving koalas (If you didn't manage to make the quantum leap, don't worry - some people print my chapters, printing uses paper, paper is trees, koalas need trees so by removing roughly a 1/3 of a page of needless junk, I save one in every thirty koalas a tree!)

Oh, and if you want to catch me in a live chat, head to naviblue dot com and register yourself. Hopefully we'll bump into each other!


	10. God's Science

**Chapter Nine-**** God's Science**

It had just gone dark at the Nest. Many of the clan reclined around fire-pits, engaged in low conversations. Norm stretched the kinks out of his Avatar body, looking out the window-like hole in the wood of the tree down to where the fires glowed, before backing away into the inner spiral. The past night and day had been the longest time he'd spent away from his Avatar for many months, and it had not been his choice.

He had mumbled last night to Greg in the link room that Jake and Neytiri were expecting, and suddenly the next moment Greg had hit an alarm and the whole population of Hell's Gate had emerged from their various places in the link room. There had been a lot of shouting and slamming of hands onto tables after that. Through his haze of sleep, Norm had barely been able to keep track of the conversation, much less argue. He'd been forced to go to sleep while five of the drivers jumped into the link chambers.

When he'd woken, late the next day, Max had forbidden him from linking up, instead telling him to help the remaining scientists figure out how to work a mass spectrometer and various other equipment. They'd then sent him on a wild goose chase for a certain sized bolt, and when he returned it was to find Neytiri sitting in the medical bay with diodes all over her body. She hadn't been happy.

"Norm," she asked him, watching the wires while Louise bipped and bopped with the machine, "I want to ask you a question?"

"Yes?" Norm lowered himself into a chair next to the glass wall.

Neytiri's chin lifted. "You are all so scared. Is being a child bad ... dan-jer-us? For Sawtute?"

Norm leaned his elbows on the desk. "Sometimes."

Neytiri turned to look at him. "My son will be strong," she said with conviction.

Norm held her gaze a moment; her ears lowered just slightly. "Do you not trust me, Norm?"

Max came to stand beside Norm. "It's better safe than sorry, Neytiri."

Neytiri's head tilted. "Sorry?"

"Sorry has two meanings," Norm explained. "It can mean sad or regret as well as being sorry for doing something wrong."

Neytiri nodded, cataloguing the word to herself.

"Neytiri, could you stand and walk about? We need more readings," Louise asked.

Neytiri stood, pacing back and forth. She shot a look at Norm as she passed. "Sometimes, I think," she began, "I think, Sky People –" she pivoted, her head snapping around to Norm again, "They are meaning two things at all times. I learn English, there are ten words for one thing. One word, mean ten things. All those words – always lie. Never say what you mean. That is Sky People. The Dreamwalker body – it is your nature. A face is not a face to you. To me, a face is what you are – when I cry inside, my eyes –" she turned, touching her lashes briefly, "they cry. And I am crying." She took a deep breath. "But not Sawtute, no. The Sky People, the people of more words than there are stars. They never can look or say well."

She reached the wall, spinning on her heel and marching the other way, the machine taking accelerated readings.

She looked at Norm. "Now, I cannot read your Tawtute face, Norm. What does this mean?"

Norm looked uncomfortable. "I'm not hiding anything from you."

"I know this," Neytiri said.

"Can you stop," Louise said. "Stand still."

Neytiri crossed her arms, then paused, looking at her arms and dropped them to her sides. "I am like Jake," she muttered. Greg asked her to sit down, and he took a saliva sample.

Neytiri touched her lips afterwards, grimacing.

"I do not lie," she said softly, but Norm leaned forward, listening. "I say: my child will be strong." She repeated the phrase in Na'vi, her eyes pinning Norm.

Norm found Mo'at as she was leaving the fire-pits. "Jake and Neytiri aren't coming," he said, catching the woman's attention.

Mo'at paused by a bladder lantern, the light casting half her face into deep shadows. "You are Norman, the Dreamwalker," she noted, using Na'vi.

Norm nodded quickly.

Mo'at was still looking at him intently, the silence growing awkward until he blurted, "Do you want to know where they are?"

Mo'at passed into the light of the next lantern. "I saw the Sky People's s flying rock beast this morning." She looked at Norm, her face now lit from below. "From what _I_ know of what Jake told me, it will be twice as long since he has been here until more Sky People come. This has not changed?"

"No," Norm said, "It's still nine more months. No – the drivers came because, well, they were worried there could be a problem with Neytiri's child."

Mo'at was fixing the bladder lantern. "Do they not know that it is not their place to worry about this thing?"

Norm drew closer. "It's their ethics. Three of them have studied medicine; there is an oath – a promise – that you have to make, to not hurt anyone, and you can't let them get hurt by standing inactive, doing nothing. It's called the Hippocratic oath. Besides," Norm's eyes dropped to the lantern, his eyes aching briefly from the bright light, "on Earth, having children can be very difficult – even before all the toxins and radiations got bad, our kind weren't very good at it."

Mo'at eyed him questioningly. "There are as many Sky People as there are stars," she said. "How can this be right?"

Norm shrugged. "Beyond me. I don't know."

Mo'at nodded slowly at this, a slow smile on her face, "You do not fear for my grandchild," she said shrewdly.

"No," Norm agreed. "Think of it like sharpening your knife, when you are the best archer. It's just a precaution."

Mo'at reached out, taking Norm's hand, "When the monsoon is over, you will take the Dream Hunt," she decided.

Norm staggered back a step.

Mo'at dropped his hand, looking amused, and left him standing by the lamp.

As was usual for them, Jake and Neytiri woke at dawn. The weather seemed to be making one of its last attempts to cling to the wet season with a steady shower. They lay in each other's arms for a while, running fingers along shoulders and eyelids, looking at their new matching spots.

Then they crept out, ignoring the rain, and found that the door to the medical bay was open. It was deserted but for one of the scientists draped over a desk, snoring softly, a cup of black coffee half drunk beside her. Jake knocked on the glass and Wendy woke with a grunt and a start.

"Argh – oh. It's just you," she said, stretching with her hands on the small of her back. She groaned, bending herself back over her hands. "We should install a bed in here, huh," she grumbled, coming to the glass wall. "The results will be done by lunch," she added, looking up at them.

"What do we do until then?" Neytiri asked.

Wendy shrugged. "When the weather's good, we play sports," she said. "There's not much to do here when you're not on expeditions. We hacked the informational screenings room to watch movies –" she frowned, "But, of course, you two can't breathe so good in here, huh?"

She ran a hand through her dark hair.

"I don't think Neytiri wants to watch movies," Jake added.

Neytiri shot him a quick glance. "What is that?"

Jake shook his head. "Sitting on your ass being mind-wiped."

Wendy was leaning into a microphone. "Kieran," she said.

"What?" whined a sleepy voice on the other end.

"Do you still have those cards?" Wendy asked.

"What? Shit, Wen, it's six in the – oh. Oh, yeah, I do. Sorry." His voice turned friendly. "Getting bored in there, babe? Can't believe you're still awake –"

Wendy paused the intercom, looking at Jake. "Are card games appropriate?"

Jake glanced at Neytiri. "This is going to be ... interesting. Maybe we should go for a walk Ney-"

"I want to play," Neytiri said decisively to Wendy. She turned her head to Jake in challenge.

"Okay," Wendy said slowly, switching the mic back on. "Get your butt up here pronto Kieran. And don't forget the cards. And some food."

"Right," Kieran replied.

She sat down. "Do you guys need to eat?" Her eyes were on Neytiri.

"Kieran will take time," Neytiri guessed. "We will eat the fruit." She began to move to the door.

Jake held up a hand. "I'll get you some. Stay here, where it's dry." And he ducked out the door into the rain. Neytiri looked around the medical bay with distaste.

Wendy pulled chairs over to the glass wall, sitting in one and crossing her legs, tucking hair behind her ear. "Men," she said, with a smile. Neytiri stopped looking at the defibrillator, facing her.

Wendy was worrying her lip. Then, she suddenly leaned forward. "I have something to ask you, and you need to answer me quickly."

Neytiri's eyes widened. "Yes."

Wendy tugged on her own hair pushing it back from her temples, uncrossed her legs. "How did you find out you were ... pregnant? Exactly. When did you know?"

Neytiri held out her hand, "The spots. They appear, then before I grow big," she touched her stomach, "the spots now on Jake."

Wendy crossed her leg again and bounced it up and down. "Are the spots always on the hands?"

"Most time," Neytiri answered.

Wendy took a deep breath, looking unnerved.

"I have scared you?" Neytiri wondered.

"No –" Wendy looked up, "No." Her lips curled into a smile. "That's nice. Really." She stood up suddenly, hurrying to the coffee machine. "Kieran will be wanting a drink," she muttered. "We're almost out of beans in here –" The machine beeped and she returned to sit with Neytiri, just as Jake walked in with an armful of fruit, shaking his hair and tail, dripping all over.

He dumped the fruit on the gurney.

"This is too much," Neytiri chided him, taking one.

"You're eating for two now," Jake said.

"Skxawng," Neytiri said with a smile, sitting carefully next to the fruit, pulling a foot up onto the edge of the metal gurney and leaning the fruit on her knee while she peeled it open.

"Those taste so good," Wendy said.

Jake nodded, giving her the thumbs up. "Maybe you could link up, get some for your-"

"Oh, no, I got to watch the ones who are out there." She glanced over her shoulder at the blank screens. "One of the few RDA policies that made sense." She was suddenly distracted by cheerful whistling. As she stood up, a man walked in, holding a pair of food trays. He wandered his way around the room, putting the trays down and kissing Wendy on the cheek.

"Hey big blue man," he nodded to Jake, breaking into a grin. "You rock that jewellery. I'm Kieran."

Jake shook his head, chuckling.

Kieran sank into a seat, passing Wendy a meal, opening his own and spearing a steaming sausage and pointing it at Jake and Neytiri. "Look, Wen, at what they got. Come on, just a quick link up –"

Wendy neatly squared the tray on her knees and shook her head. She took a bite of the toast, then put it back on the tray, grimacing. "The _rules,"_ she reminded him. "Besides, what if I feel sick like last time?"

Jake leaned forward. "Sick?"

Kieran rolled his eyes. "She had a shaky withdrawal from her Avatar two days ago, threw up all over the floor over there, and hasn't linked up since." He looked at Wendy pointedly, "There's always going to be glitches. It's like a horse, Wen, when you fall off you get straight back on again."

Wendy deliberately took a huge mouthful of scrambled eggs, shaking her head in annoyance. Kieran sighed, grinning, and tugged a deck of cards from his pocket. "So," he said through his food, "What's with wanting to play Texas Hold'em at six thirty in the morning?"

Neytiri leaned forward. "My child will know his past. So I must learn what games to play with him."

Kieran shared a look with Wendy. "Okay, so not poker then."

"Snap," Wendy agreed. "I'm done," she said standing up and putting the tray to the side, "Just let me get the exo-packs. We'll join you," she added to Jake and Neytiri.

Kieran grumbled, shovelling egg mush in. "Come om Wem," he said through his food, "I hashen't finis'd eashing yed!"

Wendy had disappeared from Jake's vision. "You eat too much anyway!" she called. "Add that to linking all the time and you'll get fat!"

Kieran looked down at his body, spilling some egg on his shirt. He swore, brushing it off and glaring to where Wendy was bumping and clanging out of sight. "Am not," he said, gulping down his last mouthful. "This is the same six-pack I've had since I was eighteen."

Wendy walked back into view with two exo-packs, smiling. "I was joking. "

Jake watched as they put on the exo-packs, passing out of sight. A moment later they were entering the medical bay. Kieran looked around, "Cheerful in here," he muttered, grabbing the tool table and rolling it between the two gurneys. He and Wendy climbed up, sitting on the long bed.

"So who's going to tell her the rules?" he said, pulling out the cards and shuffling expertly. He then spread them out so Neytiri could see all the faces.

"Okay," Jake said, "Basically, the deck – all these little things, is going to be split between us four." Neytiri nodded. "You're not allowed to look at what you got. We go around the circle, put one down each at a time, turning it face up-"

Wendy took a small bunch and demonstrated – Kieran did the same.

Neytiri was watching their movements like a hunter, but she was nodding in understanding.

"Then," Jake pointed to the numbers, "Say Wendy puts a three, on top of Kieran's three, then we all -"

Kieran, Wendy and Jake slapped their hands on top of the card, all yelling "SNAP!" Neytiri jumped slightly, her tail whipping up behind her. Jake took the two hypothetical threes (a three and an ace) and said calmly, "Whenever the cards have the same number, you have to put your hand down and yell 'Snap!'. Whoever gets their hand on top wins. If you run out of cards, you have none, and then you lose and you can't play. If you get all the cards, you win."

Neytiri nodded. "I can play," she said.

Kieran quickly dealt. Neytiri kept her eyes on all the others, making sure she was imitating them to their best. In her and Jake's hands, the cards were half the length of their fingers. They were just about to start playing when there was a rapping on the glass.

Max stood and crossed his arms. "That's a serious medical facility," he said.

Kieran waved. "Want to join us?"

Max huffed. "You forgot the others, Wendy," he accused.

Wendy's eyes grew wide. Then she rolled her eyes, "Oh come on, when will anything ever happen?"

Max grabbed a display, jabbing at it so it lit up with stats. "I don't like your attitude, Wendy," he growled, "Don't forget that what we've got here – and _who_ we got here is _all_ we have. We have to look after each other. And that means, sometimes, that we have to watch the others while they're linked up."

Kieran put down his cards. "Max, Wendy's been taking more baby-sitting shifts than the rest of us. I don't see Norm spending half the time she spends in there watching heart monitors."

"You know why," Max said tersely. "Besides, this isn't about individuals and doling out blame. I can't do it – I've got to work with Neytiri's tests. So please, one of you two do it, or organise someone else to take your shift."

He shuffled off tiredly without letting them argue any further. Kieran grumbled, but hopped down off the gurney. "You guys play, I'll take care of it."

"Kieran – "

"It's fine," He patted Wendy's knee, leaving.

They three of them remaining played a few games of snap, but it was half-hearted. In less than an hour Wendy was claiming that there was no way she could play anymore – Jake and Neytiri did not only have faster reflexes, but if she did manage to get a hand down before one or both of them, the power of their hands on hers was going to cause serious damage.

"We will stop now," Neytiri decided, eyeing Wendy's red knuckles and carefully putting down her winning deck. Her ear twitched. "The rain has stopped." She slid off the gurney. "Go outside with me,"she said to Jake in Na'vi.

With a wave, the pair of them left.

Neytiri made a beeline for the perimeter fence, where jungle plants were growing. The seeds from the rainy season had travelled all over in the compound, and without the force of the RDA to discourage them, they were growing as they had before the humans had come. The edges of the runways were splitting, the concrete rising and cracking over roots. Jake and Neytiri waded through the waist high growth.

"This place is not for me," Neytiri said, taking the lead.

"No shit," Jake said, brushing away a pesky bug from his face. "Seeing you in there gives me the weirdest sense of creeps."

"Are all places like this on Earth?"

"Worse," Jake said. "Trust me, that place is roomy. That room alone was at least twice as big as my apartment."

"Apar-men?"

"Living place."

"That is cruel."

"Tell me about it," Jake said.

Neytiri paused, leaning over to pick a flower.

They continued around the fence – it took a while, and when it was around midday, they headed across the concrete landscape towards the medical bay. As they neared, Max ducked out into the sprinkling rain, exo-pack mask on, waiting for them with the results.

* * *

Earth, 16th March 2155

A hotel overlooking a tropical beach with a foyer filled with the rich and affluent was opening its doors to the commoners in less than ten minutes for a symposium. Outside a huge crowd of poster-waving men and women waited eagerly, their voices muffled.

"I should not have worn the crocodile leather heels," a woman said to her husband. "Look, that one looks like he's going to maul me."

Her husband, a renowned actor, held her close. "We could go out the back door."

"They haven't got depressurisation doors that way," she said. "You know I've already got a headache."

The husband nodded grimly. His eyes were on the people standing outside. Anybody worth knowing – the man's peers, and the speakers at the symposium – were already in the hall, having been invited to stay at the hotel. The man and his wife wouldn't have joined them if they had known this would be happening. A man outside the door shook a poster in the air – it was a picture of an alien, blue and snarling towards the camera, arm drawn back as if about to punch the lens.

_NOT A MONSTER,_ the sign proclaimed.

Another man – honestly, security weren't doing their job very well if they let _his _kind in – bumped past the husband and his wife at the bottom of the grand staircase. The wife tottered on her crocodile skin heels and the husband grabbed the man, growling, "Watch where you're going."

The man, slim and of mixed race, turned, pushing the bridge of his nose as if expecting to find glasses there. "Sorry," he muttered. He glanced at the doors, where doormen where preparing to open the doors. "Sorry, I thought I was late."

"Oh, you're one of _them,"_ the actor said in disgust.

The man frowned, his slanted grey eyes narrowing. "One of what?" he said.

The actor shut his mouth.

The slim man huffed in annoyance, hurrying to the double doors of the hall without a backwards glance.

When he ducked inside, the first ten rows were already full of men and women: all rich, some celebrities, some politicians, some just old money. The man took a seat a couple of rows behind them, distancing himself, sitting in the sidelines.

A woman approached him. "Lee," she said, gathering him into a warm hug, "long time no see. I figured you'd made it onto the Avatar program."

The man shrugged. "You know they only take people with a flawless medical background. So I took a different career path. Spent some time in China with my grandparents. Learnt some engineering."

The woman pushed him over a seat and sat next to him. "Those eyes are new."

"They're more lax over there about regrowing, if you have enough money," the man said, touching an eyebrow. "But this pair got my mother's genes."

"They suit you," the woman said. She sat quietly for a moment.

"What's your topic?" He asked.

"What else would it be?" she said, turning to him. "This thing's going to turn into a riot if I dared talk about the Bengal Tiger project. There's only one thing they want. Aliens."

"You don't know enough about it through official sources to give a speech, Mel."

"_I'm _not giving the speech."

"Who is then?"

The woman nodded towards the stage. "Roy Selfridge _asked_ to be the first speaker."

Lee almost fell off his chair. "You're kidding. What the hell? Last thing we need is corporate lies!"

The woman patted his knee. "Calm down. He's the _first_ speaker. But not the only one."

"Well?"

She rose as there was a roar from the hotel foyer as the doors depressurised and people clamoured to enter. The auditorium quickly filled with hot, sweaty bodies. A quartet of backpackers with silicone wristbands going from wrist to shoulder tripped over Lee's legs into the seats beside him.

The woman walked out onto the stage, raising her hands for silence. Hundreds of arms raised, fighting to take photos. "Ladies, gentlemen, and non-specific beings," she smiled into the microphone. "Welcome to the 2155 International PETA Animal Rights Symposium. A few housekeeping rules – flash photography is strictly prohibited, as is shortwave and long wave video and image recording. For those reporters, we have our own full video and audio coverage which will be available at the end of the week. Contact devices should be turned off at all times.

"Today is the speeches section of this symposium and a full program can be found on your seats. Without further ado, let me introduce our first orator, who has kindly requested to speak today. As one of the highest shareholders in the RDA Pandora venture available for comment at this time, Roy Selfridge hopes to enlighten us all. We'll be the first to learn of the RDA's hopes to continue to work together with the PETA for the good of the native flora and fauna of the moon Pandora. A big round of applause: Roy Selfridge."

There was a sparse smattering of clapping. Selfridge walked up to the podium with his speech, settling it down. His smiled a white smile. "Thank you."

The auditorium had filled with whispering too quiet to detect.

"Who would have imagined a hundred years ago that the PETA would be able to consider extra-terrestrial wildlife on its list of concerns?" Roy mused. "And still... the PETA knows so little about them."

The whispering had gone silent.

"The RDA has received some terrible, unjust accusations in the last few months since our people were _attacked_ last October," Roy said. "It was unprovoked. We have been accused of it not being so because of misinformation. And so, on behalf of the RDA, I want to declare to you that today, right here, I will give you the truth."

Lee leaned forward, not excitedly like the crowd around him, but suspicious.

"The dominant species on Pandora, the Na'vi, are indeed sentient and – to a degree – intelligent. This however, has been warped by the media to make it seem as if these – these _aliens_ are like humans." Roy stepped out from behind the podium. "They are _not_ human. Anyone can tell you that – just look at the pictures. What you might not know, because you have been lied to and told to believe otherwise, is that they are a species in need of our help. They are not nearly as intelligent as us, their civilisation is more akin to what humankind was like _fifty_ thousand years ago – except, unlike humans, they do not advance, they do not evolve. We have documented proof that there is a biological network on the planet that hinders their ability to develop as individuals, which is the key to evolution." Roy threw up his hands. "They are like children. Wild children who have no concept of acceptance to anything new. They cannot accept humans because we scare them, because we are more advanced. That is why they attacked. They have no concept of what it is to coexist peacefully. And so, yes, the PETA is right. They need protecting."

Lee couldn't focus any longer. His vision swam, and his fists clenched up tight in a sign he distantly recognised as fury. He could practically see the lies dropping from this man's mouth as he addressed the symposium. _How could they believe him?_ Anyone could see that this was all bullshit! The speech continued, and so did several after, but he barely heard the words. The crowd around him cheered and listened avidly, fully unaware of the hypocrisy of the first speaker. The Na'vi, unable to accept anything new? What a load of shit!

But, of course, most of the people had no other way of learning the truth. Lee knew about the biological network – but they didn't. The RDA could take the evidence, screw with it a bit and then feed it to the media, and the masses would be none the wiser.

After the morning speeches, he cornered the woman he'd spoken to that morning. "Mel, what is this?" he said, taking her elbow and walking her by the stand serving meat, which nobody was using except for Roy Selfridge, who smiled wanly at them before walking off. "This whole 'Na'vi can't evolve' spiel – you know it's fake, how can you just let him lie to the public?"

"I must admit, I didn't expect such a cover up," Mel said, leaning against the table and holding onto her plate of salad in one hand, fork in the other.

Lee sighed. "Neither did they," he said, nodding towards the milling crowd.

* * *

By the time Jake and Neytiri had arrived at the Nest a day later, the Omaticaya had begun to notice their disappearance. Hunters greeted the vehicle as it landed in a clearing, each of their mounts rearing and snorting at the unnatural flying monster. The Avatar drivers who had stayed back to survey took Jake and Neytiri's place. Their curiosity satisfied, the Omaticaya began to return to their home even before the Samson had powered up again. The hunters hurried Jake along, jittery but not telling him the reason.

Jake held his arm around Neytiri's shoulders, as much for support as to comfort her.

Mo'at was waiting for them on the shore of the lake, along with the rest of the tribe. As they passed through, several women reached out, touching Neytiri's shoulders. Mo'at stepped forward, taking her daughter's hands eagerly. "There is – " she glanced at Jake, "omen," she said. "We have need of you." She turned to Jake. "You must come. Hold her hand," she gave him Neytiri's hand, "and it will not hurt you."

Holding onto Neytiri, he was hurried to the water by the Tsahik.

"What's up?" Jake asked.

"Shh," Mo'at said. "Into the water, do not – do _not_ let go of my daughter," and saying so, she clutched her daughter's left hand to her chest as water closed up over their ankles, wading out into the water until they were up to their waists. As they walked, Mo'at asked in a low voice, "What did they do to you?"

Neytiri looked over her shoulder at the clan on the shore. "We must do this now?" she complained.

"You know this happens at this time only," Mo'at said, halting and dropping a hand to the water, swishing it to agitate it.

"What's happening?" Jake repeated in a low voice.

"Sky People have their ways of preparing for children," Neytiri said. "This is one of our ways."

Jake's eyebrows rose. "Uh-huh. And we just stand here? Bathing, is it?"

"We saw her earlier," Mo'at said.

"What?" Jake frowned.

"Shh," Neytiri said, squeezing his hand. She turned back to Mo'at. "Am I the only?" She looked sad as she asked this.

"Twenty three others yesterday," Mo'at said and Neytiri looked relieved, "if you have been here, it would have been twenty four, a good number." Her brows rose, "But that is not what happened. We must do this now." She bent over, swishing the water and splashing more roughly.

Neytiri's back straightened. "It is coming."

Jake cast her a puzzled glance. "Damnit Neytiri, could you _please_ tell me what's happening?"

"Look," Neytiri said, pointing with her chin because her hands were held by the other two.

Jake squinted, seeing only the rippling surface of the lake.

Then something brushed his legs. "Shit!" he dropped Neytiri's hand, spinning around, "What was-"

"Jake!" Neytiri yelled, her hand reaching for his. Suddenly the thing bumped against his leg again, but this time it was with pain, and Jake yelled out swearing. "Jake!" Neytiri urged, her fingers twisting towards him. He turned, taking hold of her hand, just as the thing – whatever it was, went between his legs.

Jake jumped, water splashing up. "What the hell is-"

Neytiri stiffed. "It touched me," she gasped. Jake stared at the water around her – and there, through the splashes and ripples, he saw a fish, or what passed for a fish on Pandora. Except, of course, that meant it looked all wrong. It was flat like a disk and appeared as if its' dorsal and pelvic fins were grossly extended, long and stiff, but the tail was nonexistent, giving the creature the appearance of being shaped like a semi-circle. It was rust coloured, with vivid white stripes lined with iridescent black. As he watched, the creature rose to the surface of the water, the fin rising above the water a foot. This close up, he could see the black needle-like teeth, and strange tear-drop shaped eyes that stared in two different directions.

"Holy mother of –" he began.

"Shh," Mo'at urged.

The fish struggled for a moment, edging nearer to Neytiri, and Jake squeezed her hand tightly, eyes on the thing's teeth, his leg aching at the sight. Then, as if the effort of staying balanced was too much, the thing flopped over onto its side and lay there gasping on the surface of the water.

Mo'at smiled, and, still holding Neytiri's hand, reached out to stroke it. "Come, it wants it," she said to Jake.

He grimaced, but Neytiri pulled his hand out, laying it on the thing. It wasn't slimy, as he'd expected, and its skin was considerably colder than the surrounding water. Under the fish's skin its muscles wriggled, its two antennae reaching out, curling around their wrists.

"You better explain this to me," Jake said.

"This is more reason Na'vi get with children in this season," Neytiri said. "This fish, live in cave, under ground in dark, in cold, but come up at end of rainy season because all the rain make the cave dirty. It vicious and bites. But strange thing, this fish. It know when a Na'vi is having a baby, it can taste it, and likes her. And it will not bite those who have her touch. It a good sign to all Na'vi woman to have this fish like her. This is a rite."

Jake wriggled a finger on the fish, and it squirmed in apparent pleasure. "A cuddly piranha pregnancy test, huh." He squinted, and realised the fish _did_ have a tail, but it was completely clear.

Suddenly the fish dove deeper and swam away.

They returned to the shore, where the Omaticaya were beginning to drift back to their activities. As Jake and Neytiri wandered along the beach, alone. Neytiri stopped him, crouching to look at the bite on his leg. "It hurts?"

"I'll live," he said.

Neytiri hurried to the tree-line and returned with a handful of leaves, twisting them. "Sit," she said, and the two of them sat on the grainy sand and Neytiri pressed the leaves, which were exuding juice onto his wound. "You should have held my hand," she reprimanded him.

"Yeah, I know," he gave her an impish grin.

Neytiri leaned back, leaving him to hold the leaves. She looked out at the still water. "I had forgotten about this," she said. "At Kelutral, we went on a trip to a lake. But here, the fish comes to us."

"It's easier this way, right?"

Neytiri's head lolled back, her shoulders hunched and she exhaled. "Life always finds a way." Her lips turned up at this, she turned to look at him with warm eyes. "A baby," she rolled the word out in English, savouring the word as if it were something she could actually taste and enjoy in her mouth. "We will have a baby."

Jake looked away from her, down at the sand and muttered, "But what can I trust?" Neytiri took his hand, pausing. He pursed his lips. "I know that ... things like that don't just happen – there is order, right? Nature – animals, they don't do things just randomly – but I also know science works. It's not random either." He put his hands on Neytiri's shoulders. "In one ear, a voice says that you are in danger, and in the other, says you are not."

Neytiri looked down. "And your heart. It says nothing?"

"You tell me," Jake gave her a wan smile, a hand on her cheek to make her look him in the eyes. "It's corny, but it only speaks for you."

Neytiri shrugged. Then she blinked. "What is korn–he?"

* * *

Norm sat on a rock at the back of the beach, chin rested on his arms which were crossed over his knees. A group of the pregnant women went chattering past. "I have discovered a new creature," he whispered excitedly to himself.

One woman stopped in front of him, catching his attention. Astiri rested in her sling across her mother's chest. "Norm," Hnene said. "We are all to go back to our work."

He nodded absently. "Yeah ..."

She was holding Astiri, and his eyes traced the lines of her long fingers. "Did you ever touch that fish?" he asked.

"Yes," Hnene said, with a strange look. "Work now," she repeated.

Norm grinned, standing up and beginning to walk down the path.

"I am needing help, Norm."

He stopped. "Me?" he pointed to himself.

"You are the only Norm-man I know."

He laughed, scratching his neck. "Sure. What can I do?"

"I need you to fix something for me," she said.

"Okay," Norm agreed, wondering why she would have asking him of all people – he wasn't as clumsy as before, but there were plenty of other men around with more skills, whom she didn't seem to think were freaks. Oh, she'd stopped being cold and rude to him, but he could still tell that she was wary of him.

Hnene ducked her head and led him up into the Nest, rearranging Astiri so the infant lay against her back. Like this, Hnene was as easily able to climb just as if she weren't carrying a child with her. She led Norm up, up, until she reached a small sleeping cavern not far from his own, which surprised him. She led the way in. Norm crawled in, looking around. The place was almost spherical, covered in the pink sponge of all these places, with a large circular opening looking east. Across this was one of the 'shutters', shaped like a circle to cover the hole. But the hide had torn away from the frame, curling back.

"There is a hunter's knot, your design. I do not know it," Hnene explained.

Norm approached the cover and inspected it. "It won't take long," he promised, sitting and pulling it across his lap and beginning to fix it. "Sit here," he urged, "and watch."

Hnene removed Astiri from her sling and carefully sat beside him, letting Astiri crawl around the room.

Norm paused. "She's ... six months?"

"Yes," Hnene said, giving him a how-stupid-can-you-be look. "You were there when she was born."

Norm laughed awkwardly. "Sorry – yes, I was – it's just ... she can crawl!"

"She has crawled for long time," Hnene said, still giving him the same expression. "She should be walking soon."

Norm's eyebrows raised and he turned back to the knots. He showed her how to tie them, eventually shifting it onto her lap so that she could try. Watching and encouraging her, he felt a warm tiny hand rest on his knee. He looked up, surprised, to find Astiri wobbling, but standing, with her hands on his knee for support. She gave him a toothy smile, squealed, and her mother looked up. "Sa... sa..." The little girl wobbled, and took two steps. Hnene leaned forward, eyes wide.

"Sa'nu," she urged. "Say Sa'nu ... say Mummy!"

"Sa ...sa wu –wu..."

"Sa'nu..."

"Sa-nu," repeated Astiri. Norm grinned, clapping his hands together.

"Her first word!" He exclaimed.

"Her first steps!" Hnene agreed.

"Sa'nu, Sa'nu," agreed Astiri, walking up and down beside Norms' leg.

* * *

New Scientist, 17th -23rd April 2155

**God Tells Evolution Where to Go**

The PETA Annual Symposium has never been a forum through which the latest on xenobiology is presented. On Sunday, at the opening of the event which continues throughout the week, one of the highest shareholders of the Resources Development Administration (RDA), and great-grandson of the corporation's founder Neil Durrough, that is Roy Selfridge, gave a speech that is already dividing critics across the globe.

Selfridge, forty-two, is the cousin of Parker Selfridge, and together they are they hold the greatest number of shares in the RDA. Parker was the Pandoran associate up until the recent eviction of the company from the moon by the natives sentient beings. The cousins have both been at the forefront of RDA-endorsed endeavours on Pandora, helming the scientific investigations into the planet's flora and fauna. They claim to have discovered a biological information network that is in place throughout Pandora, which the indigenous species – the Na'vi – believe to be the manifestation of their god. Controversially, he claims that it is this force which is stunting the Na'vi's evolutionary potential.

It seems the ultimate paradox, but evidence amassed by the RDA seems to indicate that this network – described as a "biological internet" that blankets the whole planet and is accessible by plants, animals, and the newly-discovered "planimals" – while providing a unique and highly supportive ecosystem, is in fact its greatest weakness. Scientists have theorised that one change, brought about by the extinction of a species or too many of a certain population, could act as a virus of sorts, distorting the shared information passed along and possibly even stunting the ability of Pandoran lifeforms to evolve.

Doctor Grace Augustine, who is believed to have died on Pandora, wrote the following in her book, _Na'vi: A Complete Field Guide_:

"_The Na'vi have a strong belief in balance. No species can be hunted or collected more than it can replenish itself – and it is the Na'vi responsibility to make sure each species does not over-flourish. Even their own society is carefully structured – studies prove the population of each clan stays within a 10% deviation above or below the current number of individuals."_

Selfridge, who worked extensively with Augustine during her tenure as head of the A.V.T.R project, maintains that Augustine's work pointed towards the conclusion that the concept of "survival of the fittest", the driving force for Darwin's Theory of Evolution, is moot on Pandora – that the humanoid inhabitants ensure that no plant or animal needs to be fitter in order to survive. By removing the major catalyst towards evolution, Selfridge believes that evolution does not occur on Pandora, or at least not at the rate of Earth species. If so, he argues, "Why would this 'God', this planet-wide network convince the sentient beings of Pandora to do the opposite of what networks supposedly do – collect a wide range of possible information?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **I AM so, so sorry. You guys waited too long for this, and I apologise. I had a reason, but the reason is private. I hope you can forgive me.

The "Fish" I described is based orbiculate batfish – Google image search them, and prepare to freak out.


	11. All the Strange Creatures

**Chapter Ten – ****All the Strange Creatures**

From: _The Encyclopaedia of Fauna, Flora and Other Life Forms on Pandora_ by Dr G. Augustine:

_While Pandora's formidable tropical rainforests are the most famous ecosystem, not to mention the only ecosystem which has been practically studied, the moon is also home to many other climate-based ecosystems as on planet Earth. Satellites around the moon have captured extensive footage of coral reefs, grass-plains and savannahs, small deserts, forests made of conifer-like trees and the polar ice-caps. Unlike Earth, Pandora has less continent sized land-masses; instead the land is mainly formed of archipelagos. The largest landmass has an area akin to three quarters of South America. The result of these formations is that while less of the planet's area is above-sea-level compared to earth, it has much more coast-line. For this reason it is believed that Pandora has at least twice as much coral-like formation as on Earth._

_It is unknown just how much of these land forms and ecosystems are inhabited by the humanoid creatures self-named the "Na'vi"._

It was time to go fishing. It was not yet dawn, but all along the moon-white beach, blue forms crept towards the water's edge, spears in their hands and nets at their hips. The waves seemed to hush them, rasping up over their ankles as they entered the water.

A young boy stood still with the water at his waist, and roughly shook his wrists. Up and down the beach, wristlets began to glow with bioluminescent seed beads, the reflections bouncing up from the water. At his shoulder his elder brother stood tall, giving him a warning look, pursing his lips as if to say, _Quiet!_

Taking a deep breath, the boy crouched until his head was under the waves, opening his eyes against the sting. Using his glowing wrists as a guide, he began searching the sand. He came across an object that appeared like a rock, and he grasped it eagerly. It was a fish, and it wriggled, but he quickly pulled a needle from his ear and pierced it, killing it with a quick blow to the brain. He stood up, gasping for air.

On either side of him, his fellow hunters were all doing the same, quickly slicing off the head and tearing from the fish a disk-shaped organ. The fish was placed in hip-pockets, the disk in their mouths. The boy tasted fish blood, and as one the hunters dove forward.

Breathing through the fish's breathing device, the silent forms of the hunters powered towards the reef. Tall towers of coral rose like a city around them, glowing faintly. The boy dived lower, searching the darkness for his prey, his head aching under the pressure.

A dark form swam overhead.

The boy glanced upward. And he frowned.

Instead of soft moonlight, the sky was split by a white streak of light. Despite his training, the boy swam upwards, slowly, so as to not get the sickness of divers. At last he broke the surface, and stared in amazement.

A star, ten times brighter than any star he'd ever seen, was slowly moving across the sky.

Something tugged on his leg. The boy yelled, thrashing.

"Stop scaring the fish!"

The boy fell silent. "Sorry, brother," he whispered. "But, look."

The boy's elder brother looked up, his face shining wet in the moonlight, the white star reflecting off his eye. "I have seen this before," he said in a low voice, "The night the Dreamwalker, Toruk Makto, went through the eye of Eywa. It is the Sky People flying in their rock ikran."

The boy's jaw slowly opened.

"They are not leaving," he said, "We would have seen them. They must be coming _down."_

The star crept across the sky, not getting larger or smaller despite the boy's prediction, tracing its orbital path.

* * *

She could move like ... she glowed as bright as ... why did Jake feel as if he were discovering Neytiri again? These were the days that belonged to her. She was the moon; she grew with each phase, she was a prism, refracting light into its pure dimensions.

And there were things he could never have expected. The exact firmness of her growing abdomen. The rocking gait she used. Her refusal to give up flying with Ghost.

They were now part of a secret club, and had learned the ritual greetings ("Oh you're _so _big"), the covert messages ("Eat _this_ if you want a boy"), and they took part in the impromptu meetings to pass on the grand knowledge to new initiates.

But most of all that Jake would be able to recall of these times were a few moments:

Neytiri through the glassy water, standing at the ready with a spear. Jake swam, urging the fish in a shoal towards her, a six-tentacled squid no bigger than a nickel an inch from his eye, staring at him as it frantically tried to get out the way.

Neytiri's arm flicked forward, the spear pinning the fish to the leaf-litter under water before it twitched and floated to the surface, where she took it triumphantly, pressing its scaleless form to her belly.

A hot dry day flying. Neytiri crouched above Ghost, her belly button skimming the white ikran's shoulders at every turn.

Connecting their queues, and hearing the first echoes of thought, muffled memories of the songs Neytiri sang, so that every night Jake would lay his head against Neytiri's stomach, tell the baby stories and sing.

"Hush little baby don't you cry, daddy's gonna sing you a lullaby..."

Neytiri learnt these songs too, so that it became a common thing to walk amongst the Omaticaya and hear, from just out of sight, young men and women humming, "Twinkle twinkle leetle star, now I wander, and up there you are..."

But these are fragments, of memories, of lives. Beginnings. It was what – no - it was _who_ came after that Jake remembered so clearly.

* * *

Later, much later, Jake would tell the whole story. And he was determined to tell it in order. Begin at the beginning as they'd had to do for reports back in the marines, then you go through the middle, working methodically to the end, trying to make sense of it all.

* * *

At the beginning of the dry season Neytiri began to show, along with her clan sisters. Some of them would not show for several months, depending on when they had conceived, but Neytiri was clearly the most developed. As such, she had taken on the role of leading her fellow parents-to-be in the specific rituals and teachings that the Tsahìk usually covered. Unlike what Jake knew of human's approaches to pregnancy, for the Na'vi there was a clear sense of the father being equally responsible. The seriousness on the faces of the young men confused him at first, until Jake realised he was putting human expectations on them.

The dry season also brought a new set of young Omaticaya intending to perform uniltaron, the Dream Hunt, which was the last right to become a man or woman. Jake, as olo'eyktan would have to lead the ceremony. But first, he had to lead on a hunt of his own, for the ingredients needed in the ceremony.

He went at night, a hexapede hind-leg slung over his shoulder. All the young Na'vi who would take part in the ceremony followed in single file, a stone jar in each of their hands. Neytiri accompanied them. They trekked north to a place where the forest floor was naturally terraced around the river which ran into the lake under the Nest. During the dry season this area would be left alone; it was only during the wet that it was worth the danger of the steep invisible cliffs for the numerous fruits that grew on the vines and trees. But it was the "web-vine" that hung just above the glowing moss itself that was most useful to the hunters. The prospective warriors rested on this on their stomachs while Jake and Neytiri dropped the meat onto the moss. Then they waited with open jars, hands ready.

A sound, not unlike far-off whispering could be heard. Jake looked down, seeing marked against the bio-luminescence; a black arachnoid.

Slowly Neytiri reached down, making sure the group watched her. Her thumb and little finger pinched the stinger still, her index and middle pinioning around the head in a move so swift and easy the creature didn't have a chance to wriggle before she'd stored it in the jar. The teens followed her example. Jake kept an eye on Norm, who missed his first one, narrowly escaping a sting. But he was swifter the next time and soon had his own arachnoid safe in a jar. As always with Neytiri and Pandora, it was learn fast or get hurt fast.

Once they'd caught as many of the arachnoids as needed, the group climbed the tree and jumped down some distance from the scorpion-like beasts.

They started a steady jog towards the Tree of Souls. Neytiri set the pace, her condition clearly having no effect yet on her speed and agility. As she leapt over logs, her bulge briefly outlined against her abdominal muscles. Somehow, she seemed fiercer, stronger now that she carried his child. Jake breathed in deeply through his nose at the thought.

At the Tree of Souls they headed straight to the trunk. Here the bark peeled, and when they pried of a sheet, on the inside were holes riddled with glowing purple worms. Jake wrapped this in a piece of cloth.

They returned to the Nest an hour before sunrise. On the rock cliff the fires flared up, children leaning sleepily upon each other as their families prepared food. The young Na'vi hurried to grab Nikt'chey filled with leftovers from the previous day. The nocturnal activity had left them in a state of hyperactivity, and they sat tickling the toddlers and eating. Jake and Neytiri retreated to the edge of the cliff, sitting with their legs over the edge. Jake held her right hand in his left, using his thumb to trace the growing swirl of glowing dots. Neytiri looked up at the Nest, then lifted a finger towards a small moon on the right side of the tree. "That moon we call "Baby Nantang" or "Puppy" because it chases its father in circles," she said in Na'vi. Jake knew that the 'father' was hidden behind the trunk of the Nest. Neytiri took a slow bite, speaking again once she'd chewed and swallowed, "when the Puppy is on the other side of the Nest, I will have our baby."

"How long will that be?"

"Three months, four," Neytiri shrugged.

There was a sudden childish squeal from the firepits. Jake looked over his shoulder, recognising a sight from his own childhood; a man had picked up a little girl by her arm and leg and was spinning. The child's other arm and leg flung out, she seemed to float. "Brrrum, brum, you're an aeroplane," Norm laughed as the girl squealed. "Uh, I mean," and he switched to Na'vi, "You are an ikran! You fly!"

Coming to a stop he put down the squealing child, who jumped to her feet. "Nom, more, more fly," the girl demanded in English.

Neytiri stood up.

Older children crowded around the little girl, who clung wobbly to Norm's knee, all of them demanding to be an ikran too.

One of the mothers around the pit approached the spectacle, scolding the children back to their seats. "Astiri, my daughter," Hnene said, picking up the tiny girl, "Do not tire him out." She dipped her head at Norm. "You are to take the uniltaron today. This is right?"

Norm nodded. "Really, it's no bother," he said, waving a hand at Astiri, who caught his finger, towing him closer.

"Mum, let I fly, I fly?" the girl pleaded in English.

Hnene gave her daughter a wide-eyed look. "She thinks you are so fun," she told Norm, shaking her head, "She speaks 'Ìnglìsì just as well as Na'vi."

Norm apologised. "I'll try not to speak it around her."

Hnene hitched Astiri more firmly on her hip. "It opens her ears and widens her gaze," she conceded. "Besides, it is not 'Ìnglìsì the words I fear, for what are words? To me, only sound. No, if you do not teach her evil, you can say whatever you like."

Hnene nodded once again to him and turned back to the fireplace, took three steps and then turned again. "I hope you do not die today," she added awkwardly.

Neytiri looked down at Jake, who was still sitting. She sat down and quietly said, "It is a pity she is still Ngera's lifemate. They are suited."

Jake frowned, leaning closer. "But he's dead?"

"He has let go, yes," Neytiri said. "But Hnene still ... it would be against Eywa, a heresy. She holds a part of Ngera in her."

Jake sighed. "It's the tsahaylu they made, isn't it?"

"Yes. Not to be broken."

Jake glanced over his shoulder, catching on Norm's face a look he'd only chanced upon once or twice, a twisted lip that he was sure he'd worn himself when pining for Neytiri and believing their bond to be impossible.

"Could it be broken?" Jake said, wrapping an arm around Neytiri for privacy, "say if she loved another enough?"

"My mother knows more of this story than I do," Neytiri said.

As if on cue, they heard Mo'at greeting the children by the fireplace. Jake left Neytiri go, "_How_ does she do that?" he grumbled.

Neytiri twisted and sprang towards her mother, slowing as she approached, "Oel ngati kameie," she said. "Today is a good day for uniltaron." She crouched among the children. "Do you know of the first uniltaron?" she asked them.

"No, no," the younger ones said. "Tell us."

"It's the story of E'kto and Ralmìn," snorted an older child, "how can you not know that?"

"Tell us," the younger children demanded.

Neytiri stood. "Will you tell it, mother?"

Mo'at shook her head with a chuckle, "Beware when the ikran chick mewls," she muttered, giving Neytiri and Jake a sly look as she seated herself among the children. The prospective warriors crept closer, eager for any last piece of wisdom before they embarked on their Dream Hunt.

"A long time ago there was a young warrior named Ek'to. He was brought up in a small tribe which was suffering; there was no rain and so there was little food. Worse still, Ek'to's father had died early, and so he had to hunt for all his family. When he was of age, his mother was lucky enough to secure him a girl from a successful family, who had many daughters to spare. Both Ek'to and his life-mate were good humoured and their bond was strong.

"And then there was a war between their clan and another, for the food was even scarcer by then, and each tribe believed the other to be ruining the balance of Eywa. Ek'to got wounded early in the battle and retreated to find that their Hometree had been invaded, all the mothers and children stolen because the enemy clan planned to kill all elders and men. Ek'to found his life-mate to be among the missing, for his life-mate had recently begun to carry a child.

"Ek'to struck out with only his bow, determined to rescue his mate. He journeyed through the dry forest by the coast, not stopping to look for food or water, growing weaker and falling further behind the enemy. One night he fell down, starving, at the base of a Sacred Tree, begging for Eywa to bring balance back into the world, so that his mate may return to him. Seeing a glowing worm in the wood of the Sacred tree he tore it out, he was so hungry, and ate it. He then went to sleep. During the night a kali'weya, attracted by the scent of Ek'to's starving, dying body, stung him. Ek'to woke at the pain, crushing the arachnoid, but suddenly Ek'to was shown his place in this world, and he saw it as small. He was on his Dream Hunt.

"On his Dream Hunt, he found the dead body of his mate, her child torn from her body. Ek'to felt pain beyond his uniltaron as his mate died in the real world, the bond between them fractured. In his Dream Hunt, feeding on the carcass of his dead mate was an ikran. Remember," Mo'at raised a hand, "These were the times before Na'vi rode ikran."

Mo'at leaned back, closing her eyes.

"He woke from his Dream Hunt, and enraged ran on. Eventually he came to a cliff where he found the ikran eating his mate. As it gulped down his unborn child Ek'to screamed with rage, running forwards. He was so angry, insane, that he wanted the ikran to feel his pain, to understand, that he did something that had never been done before – he grabbed its antenna and made tsahalyu with it."

The children's eyes were wide with shock and admiration. To make tsahaylu with the murderer of your life-mate and baby!

"What the warrior did not know was that a scout of the enemy tribe was passing at the time and saw all that happened. Her name was Ralmìn. But when the ikran and his rider landed on the cliff after a flight, bonded, she had stumbled from the bushes. The warrior saw her, and recognising her pattern, aimed his bow at her."

"Then she spoke, 'Do not shoot me, brave warrior. Do you not see that you can stop this war?' And although he was reluctant, he lowered his arrow and demanded that Ralmìn explain what she meant. She explained that since he could now fly as far and fast as the wind, he would be able to search for a place where there was food and the balance of Eywa could be kept. 'Take me,' she continued, 'for we are both skinny and light enough for your ikran, and you will need me to tell the news to my tribe when you return. If we part, you will never find me again, and many will die.' So, grudgingly, Ek'to allowed her onto the ikran. They flew west, inland, over mountains, until they found a vast lush forest that teemed with life. They planned to go back to tell their tribes to travel to this place."

Mo'at leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "But this forest," and she waved her arms at their surroundings, "has a strong force of Eywa. They found the Tree of Souls. While connecting to Eywa, Ek'to felt the whisper of his dead mate, who told him that Ralmìn loved him, and that she, his mate, recognised that she made Tsahaylu with him when his mind was still a child, but the war had changed him, that he was an adult now: a different Na'vi to the one she'd bonded with. Thus she released him from their bond. And so Ek'to and Ralmìn were free to join before Eywa."

Mo'at smiled. "It is from Ek'to that we have the Dream Hunt, it is because of Ralmìn's wisdom that we, the Omaticaya, who are now one tribe from those two enemy tribes, living in this forest."

The children were squirming with excitement. Jake however was gazing across the fire-pit at Hnene, who was busy cooking, seemingly not having listened to the story.

From then on, the cliff began to fill with more and more of the Omaticaya for breakfast. Taking this as their signal to leave, Jake, Neytiri and Mo'at rose up into the Nest to prepare for the ceremony. Already large stone basins burning incense were set out on the platform.

"Heh, come," an old Na'vi approached Jake, pulling him to the base of a branch. Earthenware bowls of water beside mats were arranged carefully. "For those who struggle."

"Hopefully none of this will be needed."

"But, of course, this is only in case."

After midday the candidates arrived along with their families, friends, acquaintances until all the Omaticaya stood on the platform, leaving a clearing in the centre where the boys and girls stood, clutching their arachnoid jars. The inner ring of the spectators included warriors and elders, seated and watching the proceedings intently. Norm stood at the edge of the group of those going on the Dream Hunt, blinking. Neytiri took each of their jars, lining them up on the ground. Then Mo'at approached the group, a handful of smoking herbs in her hand. The Omaticaya chanted to the beat of an Elder's drum.

The young hunters squatted, waving the smoke over themselves. Neytiri then approached with a glowing purple worm, prized from the wood, placing it upon the tongue of the first candidate. The girl chewed. Jake pulled the arachnoid from her jar – trying not to grimace at its squirming legs – and pressed the stinger to the back of her neck. Then he quickly turned around, placing the arachnoid in the jar, feeling faintly sickened. There was a moan from the girl; Jake turned to see her on all fours, panting, eyes rolling up into the back of her head. Her comrades moved back, giving her room as she curled upon herself. Her arms shook, and for several minutes the chanting and drumming continued, covering up the sounds of her panting and vague cries: and then suddenly she grew quiet. Her arms lifted from her head, and she weakly looked up.

"Sturmbeest," she whispered, seeming shocked.

There was a ripple of approval through the crowd. An Elder helped the girl to the edge of the spectators, where she slumped against a surprised looking warrior.

One by one, the boys and girls, all ten of them took their Dream Hunt. Some barely made a sound, others screamed in pain or terror. Some announced their spirit animals proudly, or with fear, seeking reassurance from their Tsahìk. Others retreated with stunned silence to ruminate upon their findings.

And last, Norman. There was a slight crease between Neytiri's eyes as she pulled the last worm from the wood. Norm closed his eyes, chewing it mechanically, although Jake knew from experience that it didn't actually taste that bad, in fact a bit like peanut butter. He quickly pressed the kali'weya to Norm's neck, hearing Norm's hiss of pain. Jake retreated, it was now just Norm in the middle of the congregation, walled in by the drumming and chanting.

Norm had dropped to his knees, his back ramrod straight, his tail flicking. There was a wordless curse before his muscles contracted. His fists clenched at his side so tightly that the veins in his forearm were like thick wires under his skin. Just as it had been for Jake, the uniltaron was slightly more dangerous for Norm's Avatar body, the effects more extreme.

Promptly, Norm threw up.

It was dusk. The chanting seemed to grow louder, as if all the nocturnal life of the forest was joining in.

_"Do you fly, do you crawl, Migrate the land or stand still? Let this hunter find you; Spirit Animal, For only you can make him See clarity through your eyes."_

The drummers didn't slow, oblivious to the ability to feel pain in their palms.

Norman crawled away from his puddle, ending up flat on his back, pupils so dilated there was only a tiny ring of gold on his eye.

Jake watched intently, waiting, and slowly Norm's pupil shrank slightly, Jake hurried forward, pulling Norm's arm until the Avatar sat.

Norm's unsteady gaze gave Jake a searching look. "I don't ... I've never..."

"I get you," Jake said, helping him to the side of the ring to recuperate. "You don't have to tell me." He paused, waiting for an answer despite what he'd said.

Norm clutched his wrist. "I've never seen the animal in my life." He pulled Jake down to his level, "Jake," he whispered, "I'm not even sure if what I saw was on Earth or Pandora..."

Jake stood. "We'll talk about this. But later, okay? The ceremony –"

Norm staggered to his feet as the other new warriors did. The warriors formed a ring, leaning towards each other, their hands on the shoulder not of those next to them, but the first they reached for, forming a complex web of arms so that all were joined. Jake place a hand on Norm's shoulder, the other on the man next to him, as did Mo'at and Neytiri, and just as they had for Jake, the whole clan joined the network.

"You are now the sons and daughters the Omaticaya. You are part of the People. You are now adults; our warriors. With you, we are stronger; we are one."

* * *

Norm opened the lid of the link chamber to darkness flashing with lights, yelling.

Max was leaning over a screen, shouting into a vidcom, "Shit, wait, Norm's –" he looked up and stood. Wendy's face on the com complained as the screen shook in Max's hand. "Come on," Max ordered Norm, marching from the room, quickening to a run.

Norm rubbed feeling into his legs and chased after him, demanding answers.

"Know how we couldn't have communication with any of the ISVs because the RDA cut off the SLUs?" Max yelled over his shoulder, "well, an ISV is finally close enough for radio transmission. And they're making demands."

Norm urged his unused legs to carry him faster.

"The Hub" was seeing more action than all that had occurred within it over the last fifteen months since the humans had been banished. Now, all the displays were lit up, and all the inhabitants of Hell's Gate were busy; some running around, others tapping frantically at keyboards. On the main display was a woman.

It was hard to pin her age- like many of the elite who often travelled between worlds, she possessed the qualities of one whose mind and mannerisms had stayed young while her body had cycled but not necessarily suffered to age in the normal way. Her skin was papery in contrast to a pierced eyebrow and ash coloured hair. Her voice, however, was professional and to be honest, held the tone of a person who believed they were superior to their audience.

"End of transmission," she concluded.

Kieran turned up with a tray of mugs, putting it on the desk. "Coffee?"

Max and Norm both took one. "So what's the deal?" Max said, nodding at the frozen image on the big display.

"It's old," Wendy said, turning on her chair and taking a coffee. "And I'm talking months – not really sure why they bothered, but I bet the RDA's sent these demands via SLU to the crew. Of course the crew don't know what's going on, so they're just passing it on. But it comes down to this, that it's not exactly useful for quick communication..." she shook her head. Then, suddenly, she stood up, "Um, I don't –" and she ran from the room, raising her hand to her lips.

"Bad tortilla," Kieran said.

Max glanced after Wendy. "I see."

Kieran was staring at the woman on the display. "They want to land," he said in a low voice. "They've got the next shipment of military. It's only seventy men, but they got plenty of weapons too." He turned, facing Norm. "They plan to fight. And they could cause some damage."

"We could get Jake to round up all the Na'vi again," Norm said slowly, "But then what? Every eighteen months? That's madness."

"Wish we could give 'em a dose of their own medicine," Kieran muttered, miming lifting a bazooka onto his shoulder and shooting. "That'd send them home quick, grateful for the hydrogen we'll give them."

Max looked at Norm. "I never even thought of that."

"What?"

"Shooting back."

"With ... what, exactly?"

Max waved out the window towards the warehouse-like forms with forest banshees on the roof. "We've got tonnes of dynamites for the mines, guns, AMP suits ... I mean, we'd probably only be able to work the dynamite, simple chemistry after all, but we do know one person who knows their military gear ..."

Norm frowned. "_Who?"_

Max's eyes cleared. "Jake. He _was_ a marine."

Norm blinked. "Uh ..."

Wendy slumped in. "What about marines?" she mumbled.

"You don't look so good," Max noted. "Kind of ... yellow. Maybe you should go lie down."

"I'm fine now," she said softly, sitting. "Don't worry, I'm used to it."

Norm's head titled to one side, a habit from being an Na'vi hunter, and he focused on Wendy. "No. Way."

She blinked. "What?"

"Oh. I-" Norm looked at Kieran. "You haven't –"

Wendy's eyes narrowed. "Don't go there mister. The answer's no."

"What answer? What?" Kieran looked between Wendy and Norm, "What am I missing?"

Max caught on. "How did it happen?" he exclaimed. "You've been taking the pill like all the others?"

Kieran's eyes grew wide. "Whoa. Wen?"

"I'm not!" Wendy shouted. Several heads in the room glanced in her direction. Lowering her voice, Wendy growled, "yes I have been taking them, no I'm not pregnant, I don't know why my body's acting like this –"

Norm was staring out the window, brow furrowed. "Where's your Avatar, Wendy?"

Her litany stopped. "In the dorm. Why?"

Norm spun on his heel and walked off. Wendy leapt to her feet, and soon enough Kieran, Wendy and Max were following him back to the research department. Norm pulled on a gas mask and got into the air-lock. Wendy still looked pale and worried, as if she knew what was coming. In single file they walked outside, around the building to where the Avatars slept, lifeless.

Wendy's Avatar's chest rose and fell gently. Norm picked up her hand, and then held it out.

Five spots glowed on the back of her blue hand.

Wendy clapped her hands to her mouth, despite her exo-mask. She dropped them, stepping forward instead.

Kieran was open mouthed behind his mask. "Wen?" he said softly. "Is that ... Is this why you won't go Avatar driving?"

Wendy suddenly began to swear – she turned around, stomping down the row of beds, cursing. "One night. One fucking night. Shit. _Fuck."_

Max and Norm shared an uncertain look.

"On the plus side, its DNA should be in balance," Max said in a bad attempt at cheerfulness.

Wendy swore viciously and ran from the dorm. Kieran paused, then ran after her yelling, "Baby, Wendy! Hey, Honey, it's okay, I'm-"

Norm and Max slowly returned inside. Once the masks were off, Max pinched the bridge of his nose. "I never even saw that coming. Hell, I didn't know any of the drivers had even imagined about doing _that_ –"

"Why not?" Norm asked in genuine curiosity.

Max blushed. "I guess I've still got some prejudices – it just, it's a bit like bestiality, isn't it?"

Norm glanced away, briefly imagining a purple glade, smooth blue skin – he coughed himself back into reality. "I'm not sure if the lines are so clear cut."

"It sure isn't," Max sighed. "I'm trusting that they love each other – but Wendy probably imagined a future with human children."

Norm could clearly see Wendy's likely future now: one Na'vi child towering over his or her younger, and much smaller human siblings. Sibling rivalry could have the potential to become uncontrollable. Or: Wendy and Kieran could become Na'vi, full time, or at least 90 percent of it. He closed his own eyes briefly, lingering on that other option; but no, Jake was special. Even though Norm was one of the Omaticaya, a man, he couldn't expect to do the full transition, just because he wanted it.

"We better get back," Max said. "I have no idea what to do about the ISV. When you do go back, Norm, see if you can ask what the Omaticaya want us to do. But get some sleep, yes?"

* * *

The next morning Jake woke with his head on Neytiri's distended belly.

Seeing his open eyes, she hesitated before gently pushing him off. "We are late," she said. "Today we make iveh k'nivi s'dir, for carrying baby."

Jake groaned and patted the bed. "Come back."

Neytiri dropped a necklace over her head and pulled her hair from under the leather cord. "Jake, you want this baby, or you do not."

He got to his feet. "I'm up, I'm up," and not even looking grabbed a handful of ornaments, hooking a chest plate over his head, and an arm band up past his elbow.

Neytiri began pulling the pieces off him, clicking her teeth in annoyance. "Looking like a nesting prolemuris will make you look like a skxawng," she said. "No forgetting: you belong to the People now." Her lips curled into a smile. "Wear this," she pulled an item from the stand.

"It's a corset," Jake groaned. "Please. Anything else."

She placed a hand on his chest. Her eyes grew large. "I like it when you wear this."

Jake grabbed the clothing and pulled it around his waist. "It's on." He grinned, placing his hands on her hips, drawing her closer.

Neytiri smiled, turned, her tail brushing his cheek before she slipped into the inner spiral. After a beat, Jake focused, laughed and followed. "You're a devil, a she-devil," he said, skipping down behind her.

"We are _late!"_

The group had gathered in a clearing not far from the nest. Within moments of them entering, Hnene arrived with an armful of woven cloth. Over her shoulder Astiri peeked.

"I will get ours," Neytiri said, leaving Jake to sit beside a young man who had a young child already sitting in his lap.

"This is boring!" the boy exclaimed.

"Then go play with the others," The father muttered.

"I want to see the baby," the boy demanded. "When will I see it? Tomorrow?"

"Not tomorrow."

"The next day?"

"Not then."

Jake leaned over, grinning, "Count your days, 'evi. The moment that baby comes, you're gonna be so busy with it you won't be able to play!"

The man's eyes flicked to his son, clearly hoping ...

The boy pondered for a moment. "Maybe I should play now then."

Jake nodded slowly. The boy leapt to his feet and sprinted off into the jungle.

Neytiri wandered back with the man's mate. Neytiri had two long strips of cloth, the other woman had one which had a smartly darned hole in purple thread. The man got to his feet, gesturing to Jake that he should do the same.

Neytiri held out the cloth to Jake, a finger running along a winding pattern. "This is his life. There are windings, false turns, but it reaches both ends."

"You made this?" Jake asked. "Really?"

"Yes."

Jake took the cloth. "Wow, I never knew you could weave. This is ― this is good."

"I will show you how to tie it," Neytiri said. Jake stood awkwardly with his arms held away from his sides. The middle of the length was placed on the centre of his chest, then around his chest, crossing, then one half over each shoulder, around his waist, cross to his front and tied at his navel. Neytiri stepped back, a pleased smile on her face.

"You will be a good father. It fits."

Neytiri turned, nodding at Hnene. Astiri was tapping her mother's ear. With an impatient sigh, Hnene unfastened her own baby carrier, which was tied so that Astiri was on her back, not her front. "Neytiri," she asked, waving a hand. Neytiri stepped forward, taking Astiri from her back and passing the squirming infant back to her mother. With no sense of shame or embarrassment, Hnene let Astiri nurse.

Jake averted his eyes. "Neytiri, let's-"

"What does it feel like?" Neytiri asked Hnene. Jake couldn't help but turn back.

Hnene detached Astiri, "Here, try," she said, holding out the small girl and pressing her to Neytiri. Neytiri inhaled sharply, and for a few moments Astiri sucked before pulling back and crying.

"Not mummy, not," she complained.

Neytiri gave her back, leaving her to happily feed. "Irayo," she said. Hnene sank to the ground, gesturing for Neytiri to sit with her. "Jake, sit," Neytiri added, holding a hand to him.

Jake sat, looking intently at Neytiri, sure that his ears were red.

"Is something wrong, olo'eyktan?" Hnene asked pointedly. "You will not look at me."

Jake gave the ground a puzzled stare. "I've never seen ... um, breast feeding. In public."

Neytiri and Hnene shared a look.

"Grace had breasts," Neytiri said. "Don't humans –"

"Yes, she did," Jake cringed, he really did not want to think about Grace and her breasts, "But, um," Jake coughed, "we do, um ... I mean, not in front of others." He looked Neytiri in the eye, "Don't you think it was weird, letting her baby do that?"

"It is very normal," Neytiri said, nonplussed.

"Sorry," Jake shook his head, "I'm just ..." he shrugged. "Never mind."

"I will breast feed our baby," Neytiri said pointedly. "This will not upset you?"

"No." Seeing her eyes, Jake wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Am I interrupting?" They turned, seeing Norm. He gave Hnene a long glance, like Jake puzzled by the sight not seen in 22nd Century life. But Norm then focused on Jake. "I've been busy until now, but last night when I got back-"

"Sit, Norm," Hnene said, in English.

Norm sat. Jake winked at him.

Norm leaned his thin elbows on his knees and leant forward, switching to English. "We had first contact from the nearest ISV yesterday."

"Yeah? What did they say?"

"RDA pre-approved full of legal jargon," Norm said. "But the gist of it was that Hell's Gate was terra nullius, so by putting property on it, it belongs to the RDA, and we're trespassing."

Jake frowned. "Terra nullius?"

"Empty land. Nobody owned it. That goes for the whole of Pandora. It's prime real estate, in their eyes."

"Of course someone owns the land. We do. The Na'vi."

"The Na'vi don't count as people, legally," Norm said. "At best we can claim this is our habitat. But we can't own it, not legally. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights doesn't include Na'vi."

"Okay, what about me then? I'm ... well, legally speaking, aren't I a person? I mean," Jake paused, "human?"

Norm shrugged. "They'd twist it, I bet. Because you haven't got a human body, they could claim that you're lying, that you're actually a Na'vi-"

"We'll dig up my fucking bones then," Jake growled. "Do DNA or something. They can delete all of the paperwork, but we can prove it, and I'll claim the whole forest –"

"Thing is, we have no way of communication with Earth that won't take years because all the SLUs – which used to provide quicker communication, the half sets which are on Earth, have been turned off. It's like trying to call a phone that's turned off. Nothing happens. And even if we could, it's controlled and monitored by the RDA." Norm clenched his fists, "It's guerrilla warfare, which they won't be accountable for if people on Earth ever found out because not one of us has a smidgen of legal training."

"Why can't we just keep fighting?"

"Because they can keep coming back Jake, with more and more shit to blow up at us. They don't care about the life, they just want rock. And, unfortunately they could do it because there's no way at the moment that people on Earth could find out. We could point a radio in their direction, and in four and a half years maybe it'd get picked up, but it's not convenient Jake, and it might not work. The only way I can see a proper end to this is a ruling that stops them from even leaving the Solar System."

Hnene touched Norm on the shoulder. "Ewya stops the Na'vi clans from war. Can't you show the Sky People Eywa, so that they will not fight with us, and know that it is balance for them to not be here?"

"Only Avatar Drivers can make tsa-"

"Norm!" Jake sat up straight. "Ewya is a network, isn't it? Like, electrical?"

"Yes, information is carried in ions –"

"What could happen if you touched the Sacred Tree to a computer network wire?"

"Sparks," Norm said. "We tried it, Jake. It's not like it can be read by a computer Jake. Networks, for us, rely on binary. But Ewya is much more like a living brain, and although we do have the technology to decode the senses, Ewya is so much more, She's memories, and we can't deal with those."

"How about," Jake paused, " if somehow, an Avatar driver was able to _be_ Ewya, or read Her, sort of – would you guys be able to decode that, like you did vision and hearing?"

"In theory, yes, maybe," Norm said. "But I don't see what you're getting at Jake. When I make tsahaylu with the Seedling or the Tree of Souls, I still see the real world, so that's what gets recorded – the tsahaylu is like a thought or a memory."

Jake was excited despite Norm's doubts. "When I went through the Eye of Eywa, for a moment I was Her and She was me, we were One. I saw only her, heard only what she did. The whole of Pandora, like a thousand eyes, and then all the dead, those were eyes and ears too into the past –"

Jake was aware that the other three were staring at him, transfixed by his description of his near-death experience.

"If we could get a recording of that – I'm sure you must be able to, because for that moment you do _see_ and _hear_ Eywa –then we'd have proof that this isn't empty land, that it hasn't been for a long time."

Norm now looked excited too. "That's great. Yes – but how can we do it? You can't Jake. You don't-"

"Norm," Jake said. "_You_ could."

Norm slumped. "I don't want to," he said softly.

"It'll be fine," Jake reassured him, "You're strong, and I'll guide you-"

"I said I don't want to, not that I'm scared," Norm snapped. "I actually want my human body. It's inconvenient, but who knows? I might need it again."

"Oh." Jake set his jaw. "Well, the others spend quite a bit of time in their Avatars. Invite them over, Norm. Maybe one of 'em will find that it makes more sense to be Na'vi."

Norm for some reason glanced at Neytiri's gentle swell.

* * *

_Earth_

He was a man on a mission. There was a pretty at the bar, using her oversized doe eyes to get a free martini. Sidling up, he said, "I've only got six months left on this planet."

She turned. "How so?"

"Arnie, Avatar driver," he introduced himself, and then gave her the look that Sandra – or was it Sarah – had told him melted their knees.

The girl didn't seem to be similarly affected. "Oh. The RDA," she gave a tight smile, "How lovely. Well, nice meeting you Anthony."

"Arnie," he repeated. "Don't you want to hear about it?"

"No actually." She took a step away from the bar.

He gave her a tight smile. "Why not?" he said, still feigning pleasantry.

She turned, and in a brief moment her hair lifted from her cheek, revealing a tattoo, vines on her jaw line reaching down her neck, and under her ear an animal peeked, maybe a fox or a rabbit. She gave him a sarcastic smile, "Avatars are a blasphemy against God."

It was then his eyes alighted on the silver cross on her collarbone. He made a hasty retreat, to where his friend sat in a booth laughing at him. "It was worth a try," he grumbled.

"And if she'd actually been into you?" The friend laughed, "How long do you think you could pretend that you had _my_ job?"

"Your job! You don't even have a job. 'Delayed indefinitely' - how long are you gonna be speaking Klingon anyway?"

"It's not Klingon, it's Na'vi!"

Their banter continued for another couple of rounds until a few of the friend's RDA buddies joined them. Feeling left out of the Klingon jokes – or whatever the language was – he made a half hearted attempt to get laid only to find the girl was dating someone. He left the bar feeling dejected.

"You're not an Avatar driver, are you?"

He turned, and from the wall of the bar the pretty stepped forward.

"No," he admitted. "My housemate's the one." He narrowed his eyes. "What's it to you, anyway?"

The girl paused, then stepped closer. "Because this means I have no problem with sleeping with you."

He gaped at her, then grinned. "I thought you were ... you know," he pointed at the cross on her neck. She glanced at it, seeming surprised. She wrapped a fist around it.

"Oh? ...It won't be the first time I've gone to confession," she said.

They stumbled ten blocks to his apartment, riding up the elevator entwined. He fumbled drunkenly with his key. The girl tottered on her heels through their living room, avoiding unwashed socks and a heavy tome that was a dictionary for his housemate's Klingon language studies, or maybe a book about fluorescent plants. Who cared?

Remembering at the last moment that his bedroom was an utter unwashed mess, he steered her into his housemate's room (this was not the first time they'd swapped).

During the night he woke to post-coital insomnia. He lay on his back for several minutes before he realised he was alone in the bed. Swearing to himself, he got up. But her shoes were still by the bed. He hesitated, then pulled on his boxers and walked into the corridor. Maybe they could have another round.

She was sitting on the couch with his housemate's shit spread over her lap.

"What're you doing?"

She gasped, the book sliding from her naked lap.

"Let's go back to bed."

"No. Why are you reading that?"

She bit her lip angrily, eyes darting. "I ... I wanted to ... understand." She moved the book onto the floor. "Genetic engineering is a crime against God, but I wanted to know how a sinner thinks-"

"He's a good guy," he said in a low voice. "I think you should leave."

She nodded quickly, hurrying into the bedroom. The dress went over her head, her shoes on her feet. She picked up her bag from the couch.

"I'm so sorry," she said before leaving.

In the morning he was woken by his housemate swearing. "Get off the couch." He sat up, holding a hand to his throbbing head.

"Shit," his housemate swore, "Arnie, have you seen my book?"

"What book?"

"The one about Pandoran biology."

"No." He frowned. "What did it look like?"

"It's the biggest one. I left it right next to the couch, I swear."

"Oh."

A memory – paper against perfect thighs in the dark.

He shrugged his shoulders, and groaned his way to the bathroom for a hangover cure.

By the sink as he was brushing his teeth, a glint caught his eye. The cross that the girl had been wearing lay fallen by the toilet bowl. Puzzled, he picked it up. On close inspection he realised it was not gold, but a cheap mimic. Shrugging his shoulders, he dropped it in the bin.

* * *

It was the height of the dry season and as her birth approached Neytiri stopped riding her ikran. Not because she didn't want to, but because Ghost had disappeared.

"She has eggs in the Hallelujah Mountains," Neytiri said. "Her brood will hatch at the same time I give birth." She smiled. "There are more Na'vi ready to climb Iknimaya," she said, "I will come, to see Ghost."

Jake had wondered if the climb was going to be too much for her. Neytiri dismissed these worries. The day came, and she was the fastest climber.

Once the youngsters had made the bond, Jake and Neytiri left them to get used to flying. Jake jumped onto Atan, his eyes scanning for that white ikran that was Ghost. She was on the other side of the mountain, and so Jake accompanied Neytiri to walk around.

Ghost had found a niche, a cave. Here, moss and fungi grew. Over this was a mound of eggs. They were stone coloured,not perfectly oval, as if they'd melted onto each other. Ghost curled around them, her flanks shivering.

"She keeps them warm," Neytiri explained. "They are not hard, not soft – they will not crack if they roll. When they are born, she will put them in her mouth, and take them into the sunlight."

With gentle coaxing, Ghost allowed Neytiri and Jake to approach closer. Neytiri stroked Ghost's head, speaking softly. Jake peered at the eggs, at the faintly glowing purple dotted patterns on the shell. Reading out a hand he found them to give way a little, soft yet rubbery. Ghost snarled, and Jake jumped back as her teeth swung in the direction of his fingers.

"So who's the dad?" Jake asked.

Neytiri glanced at him. "Atan, of course."

Atan was preening himself at the entrance of the cave. "Really?" Jake was surprised.

"Our bond, affects our ikran also. Not always, but often, the ikran of Na'vi life-mates become mates also."

They left Ghost. "I should teach them," Jake said, pointing with his chin to the screaming new ikran riders. "I'll come back, to walk down with you, if you want?"

Neytiri agreed, sitting in the shade at the edge of the cave. "I wish I could fly," she grumbled, but pushed him towards his ikran, "leave me."

The young riders were eager to just muck around. It took him a full ten minutes just to get them to be within hearing distance. But eventually they were flying in formation, learning the air currents – the hot air that gusted up, the cold air under the floating mountains that could be used to return to the forest below, the eddies.

They flew past Neytiri again and again, and every time he could, Jake would wave to her, and she to him.

The afternoon grew later and later. Jake was floating leisurely as the new riders practised dives and loops.

Faintly, he heard a scream.

With three flaps, Atan tripled their speed.

Jake leapt off Atan before they'd even properly landed, running over to where Neytiri had stood, holding her hands to the rock face.

"Neytiri? Did you yell?"

She took a deep breath and turned.

"He has come early," she said. "Get me to my mother."

Jake ran back to Atan, taking flight, calling the new riders to him. "I must leave!" He yelled as they closed in. "Make your own way to the Nest, it is that way-" he pointed with his whole arm, "Tell Mo'at that Neytiri is having the baby!"

The kids congratulated him, speeding off as Jake rushed back. Neytiri was already making her way down.

It was slow and laborious. Every now and then Neytiri had to stop. Once they were on firm ground, Neytiri climbed onto a pa'li. The animals were urged into a gallop homewards.

At one point Neytiri stopped, picking some vividly pink berries. "To slow him," she said, eating them, holding her stomach. Although her actions were calm, Jake felt from her a kind of panic.

They got back to the Nest at sunset. Mo'at met them, a growing crowd behind her. Neytiri grasped her mother's wrists.

"I cannot climb," Neytiri said. "My legs, they shake."

Mo'at led them to an alcove of war bonnet fern and penghrrap, the danger-telling plant. At their approach the plant's colour shifted to a vivid lime. Neytiri's hand clutched onto Jake's bicep when she saw this. Another contraction came, and she sunk to the ground, pulling him down with her.

The place seemed overcrowded to Jake. Elders passed behind the ferns. Healers knelt at standby. A hundred meters distant, by the fire-pits, the clan had begun to chant.

Mo'at squatted before them. "Your clan is lending you their strength, my daughter."

"I am already strong," Neytiri said, getting to her feet and pacing. She placed her hands on the small of her back, pausing whenever there was pain. Eventually she stopped, squatting. Jake stayed at her side, trying to keep his cool. Mo'at took his hand, Neytiri's in her other, so that the three of them were in a circle.

"If your father had been here ..." Mo'at said.

Neytiri screamed softly, holding Jake's hand so tight he couldn't feel his fingers, only the sharp point of pain where her nails dug into his skin. He wished he could take in more pain, taking in his share of Neytiri's.

His own parents. If they had known, what would they have thought? Surely they would love Neytiri, and their grandchild? Worlds apart as they were, not to mention the chasm between life and death, surely there was a part of them that lingered, seeing over this. Jake didn't believe in God, but wasn't it still possible, that beyond the tangible Eywa there was more, even more, a string connecting stars, a link between Jake and them?

There was blood on the ground. Neytiri was in pain.

Tests from months ago, words from which echoed in his ears now. "Crucial gene mutation missing."

Would it be a blind eyeless monster as they'd suggested?

Getting the DNA for eyesight had been difficult for the inventors of the first Avatars, he'd been told. The spectrum visible to Na'vi was greater, but they'd had to find ways to translate the colours into the band visible to humans. They'd made a specially mutated gene for the Avatar bodies.

Which their child didn't have. The tests had revealed none of the genes they knew. Some other mutation had taken its place.

Or what about that threat that the baby might not have any fingers or toes?

A missing tail?

Brain deformities. Neural tube defect. Words that meant nothing to Jake, and therefore all the more scary. Spina Bifida, Anencephaly, Encephaloceles, Hydranencephaly.

He was sick with worry. He warred within himself, striking deals, and above all hoping that the baby would be safe and healthy. He was exhausted, he was ready to jump and run if need be. He was suddenly obsessive, making sure each of Neytiri's braids was straight down her back.

Mo'at held Neytiri's face, stroking her hair. "My baby," she crooned. "It's nearly morning. You must finish this."

Her clan sisters and brothers urged her on. Neytiri gave one last drawn out scream.

It was dark, and Jake was focused on Neytiri. But there was suddenly crying, not Neytiri's, no it was something higher pitched, and Mo'at was pressing it to Jake, something hot and squirming. He automatically took it, cradling it to him, then looking down realised that this thing, half the length of his forearm, was the baby. Neytiri was sitting, gasping.

It was a boy. Jake began to crawl over, saying, "Neytiri ..." when the baby opened his eyes. Jake stopped.

Although it was dark, Jake could tell there was something different about those eyes.

Mo'at raised a bladder lantern over his shoulder, illuminating the bright eyes, which were not golden but green. The baby stopped crying at the sight of the light. Jake sat next to Neytiri, cradling their son and pressing his lips to her cheekbone.

Neytiri's hands reached out, taking the baby. "Tomas," she said. "That is his name." She kissed Jake's cheek in return.

There was a cheer from those of the clan who were still awake and chanting out of sight as they heard the news. Jake and Neytiri checked their son over, counting finger and toes (ten of each) checking his tail (perfectly normal) and with ultimate care Neytiri braided Tomas's queue.

People began to leave them in peace. Mo'at approached, passing Neytiri a tiny item. "Rest. We will go to the Tree of Souls when the light is bright."

All of a sudden, it seemed, they were alone. Neytiri pushed the tiny armband onto Tomas's limb. She curled into Jake's side. "Your queue," she whispered. He passed her the end of his queue. She took her own, and Tomas's, and in one moment touched all three together.

Jake wrapped his arms around Neytiri's shoulder, holding her close. "Thank you," he breathed.

"For what?" Neytiri replied sleepily.

"For everything. It's more than I deserve."

"We are all different judges of our worth," Neytiri replied, gently pulling Jake down so that they lay on the soft ground, Tomas curled between them.

* * *

Captain Vogel looked down at the latest transmissions. The first was from Pandora, encrypted badly, a missing all the familiar jargon.

_ISV Endeavour is requested to dock and orbit Pandora as per flight plan. All passengers are to remain in cryogenic status. Hydrogen fuel supplies will be loaded. ISV Endeavour is then requested to leave, immediately._

And the second was from Earth. It was encrypted with the usual beauty, but again, this had no jargon.

_Land with all personnel. Take over RDA property; install Executive Davies as Director of Operations. Give Sergeant Cole free reign, and tell him that he can kill an opposition if necessary._

_"_What's up, Cap?"

Vogel turned to her crew mate. "I hope I get a raise for this," she said.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I am _so sorry._ Really, throw me to the palu'lukan. To be honest, it would be much more enjoyable trying to escape _that_ than what I've been facing. For those of you who remain loyal readers, thank you for your patience. As always, I'm eager for reviews, to see why people stay, and why people leave. Be honest!

P.S. I believe I may have put two or three Doctor Who references in - it's another favourite of mine, and the new season is coming ... for those who share my passion, tell me what references you find!


	12. The Endeavour Arrives

**Chapter Eleven - The Endeavour Arrives**

_The forest before him exploded – bullets shredded leaves, powering through fruit and flowers. A large bug fell to the floor, twitching. Actual bullets. Jake flattened himself to the ground, heart pounding, not daring to even lift his head. The barrage of fire was moving away, and he could hear crashing, screams._

_Three bursts of colour through the Tsahalyu – deaths._

* * *

There were three tiny fingers on his lips. Another hand pulled on his eyelid. But it was the smell that pulled him, unwillingly, into wakefulness.

Tomas sat on his neck, now discovering the delights of sticking his fingers into his father's nose.

"Oh, ugh!" He opened his eyes, getting poked by sticky fingers on his eyes.

There was a laugh at his side, and he turned to see Neytiri spread her fingers on her knees with happiness.

Jake lifted his hands to Tomas's pudgy ribs, pulling him from his neck and sitting up. Tomas, at a month old seemed to have almost doubled in weight, it felt at times. This rapid growth was, as Neytiri assured him, entirely normal. Their son was normal in every respect, from all that Jake and Neytiri's hawk-like scrutiny revealed. Every way, except that one, those bright little eyes that had the elders muttering. There was concerns that without the gold eyes that was common to the People, little Tomas would have trouble seeing. But he _seemed _fine.

Tomas progressed and he grew. And grew, it seemed. He now fit neatly along the length of Neytiri's forearm, which was roughly two and a half feet. He'd also reached the wriggling stage. Not a problem, as Norm had helpfully pointed out that it showed motor control, except that Norm wasn't the one who had to carry around what felt like a small bag of worms on his back when he went anywhere. The only thing that would stop the baby from giggling, screaming and fidgeting, scaring away all game in the process, was to ride his ikran at high speed.

This was not something Jake had wanted to do, at first.

"Are you crazy?" he'd asked Neytiri.

"You want him to want to be hunter and warrior?"

"He's a baby. He could slip!"

"Then tie him tightly."

It wasn't every day that Jake did this. Despite the fact that Tomas clearly loved it, Jake felt like he was going to have a heart attack every time Neytiri convinced him to go flying with their child strapped to his back. Jake was trying not to be a bad parent. However, despite all the group meetings with the other expectant parents, Jake was realising there really was no definite way to be a perfect parent.

Only one other pair had already given birth yet, to a little girl. In fact, it was Nguran, one of the Omaticaya's best hunters, and fast becoming Jake's friend. It was his second daughter, although he had confessed to Jake during a Sturmbeest hunt that he'd have liked to have a son.

"But Eywa wants daughters after times of sorrow, it appears," Nguran laughed, "and leaves her sons for her very best."

"It's just random," Jake answered, "All chance."

Nguran had shaken his head, laughing deeply. He had a wide, square-jawed face and a strong-shouldered build. "Olo'eyktan, don't settle for chance. Ewya connects everything, like a weaving. Step back, Jake, and you will see how each thread touches."

* * *

Norm had found two pairs of Avatar footprints a mile from the Nest, still fresh, and followed them. Within twenty minutes he had tracked down a familiar couple, albeit with different bodies.

"Norm!" Wendy got to her feet, coming to him and hugging him. "I'm so glad we found you – we're totally lost – Kieran forgot the GPS!"

Norm stepped back with a laugh, which died upon seeing her properly.

Wendy's avatar was heavily pregnant.

Seeing his face, Wendy's hands curled around herself protectively. "We've come to ..." She took at deep breath. "I want our child to grow up Omaticaya. It would be what's best for her. Besides, I don't know how this body will ... I mean, I just ... I want advice and help."

"You're welcome," Norm assured them. "But you walked straight past the clan, you know!"

Kieran shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry."

Norm began to lead the way. "So it's a girl, huh?"

Wendy blinked her almond eyes. "I think so."

When they arrived back at the Nest, Norm decided to organise them a place to sleep first. Approaching the fire-pits, he asked, "Does anyone know of a place where a pair can sleep?"

There were several suggestions, until a hand touched his elbow. Hnene bowed her head slightly, "The place next to mine has been empty for some time." She looked at Wendy, "I would not mind another mother so near."

"Wow, thank you Hnene," Norm said. "I'll show you," he said, turning to Wendy and Kieran. "Plus, it's better to learn to climb while it's still day, trust me."

"I will come also," Hnene announced. Her eyes darted to Norm, but then settled on Wendy. "Climbing with a child is different."

"I'll bet," Kieran laughed.

Hnene's stare was unnerving, and Kieran's laughter petered out. "We go now," she said, heading for the nearest giant root that led to the main tree.

It was strange for Norm to realise that he was no longer the clumsy one. It was over a year since he'd begun living with the Omaticaya full-time, but it was easy to forget sometimes just how much he'd changed. Watching Kieran and Wendy struggle with their tails, ignoring what seemed like giant places to wedge their toes and fingers made Norm feel like a graceful prolemuris in comparison. Hnene crouched at the rim of the bore-hole that led to the inner spiral watching their pair with distain.

"They are like babies," she said. "Look," she hissed as Wendy grabbed onto a bunch of moss, which flinched at her touch and floated away. Wendy was left looking for a more stable handhold.

"I was probably worse," Norm said lightly, "Trust me, they will get better."

Hnene rolled her eyes. The action was so unusual for a Na'vi, so human, that Norm stared. Hnene stroked Astiri's sleeping head, looking away uncomfortably.

Once they'd entered the inner spiral and started moving up, Kieran and Wendy's complaining gave way to admiration. "Does it glow all the time?" Wendy said, inspecting the peachy sponge that coated and illuminated the entire interior.

"It is brighter when there is more movement," Hnene said.

"Planimal?" Wendy demanded of Norm. He shrugged.

"It's probably just a photo-chemical reaction," Kieran said. "Change in lighting caused by movement induces are photo-reaction, simple. No extensive nervous system needed."

Hnene looked over her shoulder, catching Norm's eye. "Am I going to be regretting them next to me? Will they sleep?" But she was smiling as she said it.

Wendy straightened up from poking the wall, looking sheepish. "Sorry. I'm easily distracted."

The place Hnene had suggested was a cosy hollow. With four adults there, it was fairly crowded. "It is very empty," Hnene said, waving a hand at the walls and floor. "You will need a stand, for your ... things ... " she ran an eye over their human clothing and continued, "and pots, a rain cover – "

"I'll show you how to make those," Norm said.

"He is very good at making them," Hnene said. Wendy and Kieran nodded, clearly over-whelmed by all the new information, therefore missing Norm's rapid glance at Hnene, who wasn't one to give out compliments easily.

"Just to clarify," Wendy said, "The pots are for what?"

Norm' lips quirked. "Uh, that would be for the baby, mostly. Adults are expected to be, well –" he rubbed the back of his neck, "Potty trained. It's roughly twenty stories tall up here though, so until you've uh, trained your body to ... wait ... "

Wendy and Kieran looked dismayed. "Chamber pots? Are you kidding me?"

"It's a fact of life," Hnene said. "But Omaticaya men and women know how to control ..." she brushed a loose braid over her shoulder and met Wendy's eyes, "it would be best if you followed _this_ custom."

"Sure, no probs," Kieran said. "So, where do we get these pots?"

"You make them," Norm said. "Red clay for the, uh, 'chamber pot' and white clay for drinking water. If you go to the eastern banks you'll find people making them, they'll show you how." Norm frowned, looking around, "Make sure you get the yellow moss that grows at the water's edge – it's a disinfectant, so put it in both pots."

They nodded. Then, Wendy spoke in a soft voice, "So, um ... I'm sorry, I forget your name?" She looked pointedly at Hnene.

"Hnene, daughter of Ansit and her mate Kai, son of La'iri, sister of Ateyo."

Wendy and Kieran blinked.

"Hnene is what they call me," she said softly. She shuffled to the back wall. "There is gathering group, for fruits," she said, pressing herself through the feathery sponge. At the last moment she poked her head back in. "You could come."

"Oh, sure, okay."

The three of them followed her. Again Wendy and Kieran slipped and slid their way through the tree. The group was on the northern bank of the lake, where the cliff rose, lifting the fire-pits above the water level. A sizable group were organising themselves with baskets. Neytiri and Jake were there also. Neytiri for a change had Tomas strapped to her chest. The baby gave a chuckle of delight at the strangers, his hands shakily reaching.

"He is so cute," Kieran muttered. Wendy gulped, nodding, but her expression wasn't exactly of adoration. A trio of women who were just as heavy as Wendy were approaching, cooing over her size. They fired rapid Na'vi questions – name, her mate, when was the baby due and so on. A basket was arranged for them, even Norm, who was given a folded up weave sling big enough to carry a man – but evidently to carry the largest of the bounty.

The group headed out along the ridge north-easterly. "Is that Jake?" Kieran said, nodding his head towards the man in question. Norm nodded. Kieran left Wendy to the mercy of the other mothers-to-be and hurried up to the Avatar who was no longer a human.

Jake turned, nodding silently in acknowledgement of Kieran's approach.

"I got to talk to you, dude."

"Go right ahead," Jake said. A pause, "The ISV docked yet?"

"Exactly," Kieran said. "Two days ago. Seems they've followed our request. They're stabilising orbit, waiting our command to land for supplies."

"That's good," Jake smiled.

"Just thought you'd want to know, dude," Kieran said. He inclined his head to Neytiri. "Cute little kid."

"His name is Tomas," Neytiri offered.

Kieran's eyes flicked to Jake. Just like all the others at Hell's Gate, he'd known about and been expecting Jake's twin brother all that time ago. "Huh. Good name."

Jake pushed the way through the foliage for Neytiri. Kieran ducked as the branch swung back. Jake turned, brows raised. "How many on the ship?" His voice was nonchalant.

"Passenger capacity on an ISV is one-hundred, you should know that. That includes the fifteen crew. Nine miners, six new scientists," Kieran skipped a bit, "And, of course, seventy security enforcements."

"Why so many?"

"They were expecting to have a giant new mine to be guarding," Kieran reminded him. "Most of the mining can be done remotely, but security: they want the real thing out there." Kieran hitched his basket higher, "So I figure you'll want us at Hell's Gate to meet them when they come down on the Valkyrie?"

Jake nodded. "I don't see why I should go. The RDA wouldn't dare anything. Seventy men and a Valkyrie Shuttle isn't exactly scary. Nothing but the machine guns and the AMP Suits are ready to be used straight after arriving, from what I remember anyway. You guys can match it, right?"

Kieran nodded, "Yeah, we got more weapons and dynamite than we know what to do with at Hell's Gate ... not that I know how to use any of it, except maybe lighting a fuse." He snorted. "But if you're asking if we can threaten them with it, sure thing."

Kieran was just holding back for Wendy when Jake was rampaged. A group of ten children arranged themselves behind their olo'eyktan and pumped their arms, chanting in English, "We're following the leader, the leader, we're following the leader, wherever he may go ..."

"Norm's been at them again," Jake said to Kieran's dropped jaw.

"We're off to fight Sawtute, Sawtute, we're off to fight Sawtute, because he told us so..."

"I can see why he changed that part," Kieran muttered.

"Olo'eyktan," one of the little boys demanded.

"Hey, Ote'lo, long time no see," Jake replied.

"I speak Inglìsì good, don't I?" the boy said with a puffed chest. "It's our – us kids - secret language," the boy confided, "I can no speak beside Hnene but, because she knows, yes?"

"Really?" Jake's tone of surprise was slightly over-enthusiastic. "I didn't know she spoke English."

"Yes," Ote'lo said solemnly, "Did she not say it? That is where Ngera was kill – "

"Don't speak his name!" Neytiri hissed. She glanced at Jake. "Only a life-mate can say the name of their dead partner."

"Sorry," the little boy said with wide eyes.

"It's okay," Neytiri's tone softened.

By midday they had found an area with an abundance of fruit. The Omaticaya spread out, baskets at hips or on the floor. Young ones scaled tall, palm-like trees with hatchets at their waists, calling to each other across the dense forest as they hacked at the nuts used in bolos. The area beneath these trees was abandoned, because nobody likes getting hit on the head by falling nuts. Jake, Neytiri and Tomas formed a small band with Hnene and Astiri, Wendy, Kieran, Norm, Mo'at, Nguran and his family and moved up the slope in search of vines.

At the summit, Mo'at took Neytiri, Hnene, Wendy and Nguran's mate away to look for medicines and herbs for new mothers. Nguran's eldest daughter ran off after them with three cousins. The four men all glanced at each other before finding a clearing with plenty to pick. Norm set about showing Kieran which were safe, and which actually tasted good.

Jake rested his head against an old, rotting fallen tree. "Teylu," he said to Nguran. "Let's get them."

Kieran and Norm were out of sight, but their voices could easily be heard. Throughout the forest young boys and girls screamed from the tops of trees, obviously doing more play that work. Brief bursts of laughter from families could be heard.

Jake and Nguran used their knives to gouge into the follow log, finding it filled with the grubs that were a staple of protein in the Na'vi's diet. They began to fill Nguran's basket with armfuls of the squirming larvae. Very soon the basket was full.

"I'll go get mine," Jake said. "I won't be long."

He ducked through the foliage, seeking out Neytiri and the women who had his basket. A little way on he found their trail.

He turned to his left, to the sound of laughter. He smiled, moving in that direction, following the giggles. He knew that dotted through this part of the forest were tens of Omaticaya collecting fruit.

Then the forest before him exploded – bullets shredded leaves, powering through fruit and flowers. A large bug fell to the floor, twitching. Actual bullets. Jake flattened himself to the ground, heart pounding, not daring to even lift his head. The barrage of fire was moving away, and he could hear crashing, screams.

Three bursts of colour through the Tsahalyu – deaths, but they were not Neytiri, but that meant nothing, she was still out there, along with all the others, all of them unarmed, for who took their bows with them on a fruit picking expedition? Any of those screams could be her.

He struggled to his knees, when another volley of bullets splattered through the fern in front of him, and he rolled, flattening himself down.

He was helpless.

"NEYTIRI!"

The screaming was continuing. Jake crawled on his belly towards the source of the fire. Reaching a tree he hid behind it and leapt up, up, and then climbed around, peering down the other side of the slope.

A Valkyrie shuttle had landed in the middle of the jungle, in what could only be the biggest clearing for miles. At the edge of the clearing, baskets were scattered. Amongst them, the women were cornered by a group of ten human soldiers.

As he watched, Mo'at was stepping forward. He couldn't hear what they were saying, they were too far away and the breeze was in the opposite direction – which was why he hadn't smelt them coming either.

Suddenly, a group of soldiers pounced on each of the women except Mo'at. There was a shout as Mo'at leapt to Neytiri's defence, a gunshot, and Mo'at fell, and lay still on the floor. Neytiri cried out, struggling, and so was Hnene, Wendy and Nguran's mate Riyah. The soldiers were picking up Mo'at, carrying her up into the ship. They were dragging the rest of the women and children, too.

Jake leapt from the tree, running.

Just meters from the clearing, he found a group of young Na'vi girls. Nguran's eldest daughter sat rocking and crying over her three dead cousins, the ones Jake had felt die through his Tsahaylu. The youngest couldn't have been older than ten. Jake stopped. "I have to – I mean, the others – "

The girl wasn't listening, running shaky fingers over her cousin's eyes, closing them.

Jake tore into the clearing, running not only straight into danger, but to the others, who were still alive. Those girls in the bushes were beyond his help now.

When he arrived, the women were being escorted up the ramp into the hull of the Valkyrie Shuttle.

"NEYTIRI!"

She turned, calling to him, "JAKE!"

One of the men had taken Astiri from Hnene. His partner had a gun pressed to her ribs.

"I will blow out her heart!" The man yelled at Jake. "Don't you come any closer!" And to prove his point, he fired a shot near Jake's feet.

Jake jumped aside, swearing. He got up. "You're a bit off course!" Jake yelled. "Or didn't you notice that this isn't Hell's Gate?"

The women had grown still, knowing that it was useless to fight against the simple – yet effective – machine guns levelled at their heads and chests.

"You're not exactly home yourself, Avatar," one man yelled. He shook his head. "It's true," he sneered, "about you guys going native." He turned to his comrades, "Breeding," he spat, shooting a disgusted glance Astiri, who was crying loudly and squirming against the soldier who held her with clear discomfort.

"So what?" Jake replied. "Our choice."

"Yeah, well, then you won't mind us moving into Hell's Gate – you're clearly _very comfortable_ here." Jake growled as the man ran an appreciative eye over Neytiri and Hnene.

"No chance," Jake said.

Wendy and Riyah were being pushed deeper into the hull. Neytiri and Hnene stood side by side, Tomas on Neytiri's back wailing at all the noise.

"Well," the soldier, the leader said, "that's a real shame, because you're not going to get your mutant babies back until you do."

Jake felt sick. "Please," he said, trying to sound calm, "Not the children. This isn't their fight."

There was a derisive laugh, "Well we can't take just _you _Avatars hostage," the man growled, "You could just jump back into your human bodies!"

"I cannot," Hnene said firmly.

"Good one," The soldier growled, "But we heard you ladies speaking English before we got you. I'm guessing that old one is that – what's her name – Doctor Augustine, right?"

Neytiri glanced at her mother's still form with confusion. "No, that is – "

"No," The man snapped, "No more talking. We're going." He turned to Jake, light shining off his exomask so that he appeared to have no face, "You think it over a little bit. And when you decide to give us control of Hell's Gate, we'll give back your spawn, and the bodies that care for them."

There was a sudden yelled of "KEE-IIAAA!" and Hnene tried to leap away to freedom. A soldier swung his gun at her – not shooting, but throwing the whole thing with his might. Before Jake could appreciate the stupidity of the move, it struck Hnene full in the face, and she dropped.

Neytiri snarled, jumped towards Hnene, her arms reaching for the gun. But another soldier was too quick.

"NO!" Jake yelled as the man opened fire. He saw the cloth holding Tomas to Neytiri's back snap, the baby crying before he landed. The bundle went still. Neytiri turned, her mouth and eyes wide. Stuck between the weapon and her child, she began to move back to Tomas, but froze when a gunman stepped over Tomas, planting himself firmly between her and her child with a barrel aimed at her chest.

Through all of this, Hnene had dragged herself, blinking over to the fallen gun, cradling it awkwardly in her arms, clearly at a loss at how to use it. But she worked it out, pointing it at the man who was pointing at Neytiri and a few rounds exploded in his direction.

Neytiri leaped aside to safety, clearing the ramp and running the last few steps to Jake's side. The men were swearing, swarming over Hnene – she dropped the gun. The ramp was rising, and then the engines were turning on. Jake and Neytiri were forced back, eyes squinting. Neytiri was shaking at his side, her eyes wet. The Valkyrie lifted off, clearing the canopy and disappearing into the atmosphere.

Jake's ears were ringing, but he still heard the choking sound Neytiri made as she collapsed on the ground, fisting herbs and plants. "Kehe," she said softly, "Ke-he... ke-he, KEHE!" She raised her arms, uprooting the plants and throwing them from herself.

Jake knelt in front of her. Neytiri leaned forward, holding him, crying. Jake sniffed, trying not to cry himself.

Kieran, Norm and Nguran were the first to join them. Nguran was shouting, kicking ferns. He had no problem with crying. "Did you see?" He demanded, "She is alive, Riyah lives?"

Jake nodded mutely, not letting Neytiri go. "Wendy too," he said croakily to Kieran, who had seated himself on one of the rocks at the edge of the clearing, staring blankly at the sky. "They're taken as hostage. They – " he tried to clear his throat, "they think that we're all Avatars."

Norm hovered awkwardly. "So Tom – ?"

Neytiri's wailing raised in volume, which was enough of an answer.

Norm punched his own palm. "We can't let them do this," he said vehemently, "we just can't."

"What can I do?" Jake demanded, gently releasing Neytiri and standing up. He could hear the war cries of his people charging towards them, having seen the shuttle rise above the trees. "What can _I_ do?"

* * *

"This is my fault," Wendy said. "If my Na'vi hadn't been so out of practise, and if I hadn't been wearing this," she waved at her human clothing, "they would never have thought you were Avatars too."

"That is not your fault," Hnene said tightly.

They were in what could be described as a box. Wendy knew that it was air locked – for now, they would be able to breathe. She didn't want to think about when the air would run out. It was just her, Hnene and Riyah. Mo'at and the three babies were somewhere else. Wendy hoped desperately that they were alive.

When the shuttle had ascended, they had been pressed to a wall, feeling sick and gasping as rising g-forces had pressed on their bodies. It was also cramped, a shipping container. The walls were cold. A dim tube light lit the entire area.

And the only way they knew they were in orbit was the fact they were floating. Riyah and Hnene were clinging to the walls, clearly terrified. "We're safe," Wendy assured them.

"This is demon power," Hnene said, shuddering.

Riyah struggled on the wall a second before accidently launching herself across the space. She glided smoothly, using her hands to come to a slow stop on the opposite wall. "No, we are like banshee," she said softly, "but banshee are not demon."

* * *

The Omaticaya had returned to the Nest to regroup and plan. Kieran had immediately linked out to tell those at Hell's Gate what had happened. His body lay slumped against one of the great branches on the platform at the top of the tree, his unconscious form appearing almost calm.

The warriors, including Nguran, were eager to attack. But the fact was, neither ikran nor the Samsons at Hell's Gate could leave Pandora's atmosphere.

"They must come down eventually," said Kxoril.

Neytiri sat completely still beside the seedling, absently holding its willow-like tendrils in her hands. Jake tried to move her, but at every touch she flinched. Her face was expressionless. Elders placed her mother's ceremonial shawl over her immovable shoulders, but it was just a costume. She could not comfort the People now. She couldn't be comforted either.

Jake needed her. He needed Neytiri's guidance now more than ever. He desperately wanted her to hit him upside the head, call him skxawng for believing that two of the most important people to him were gone. Not missing, not by some freak accident, not to restore the balance of Eywa. But stolen. What would be done with Mo'at and Tomas's broken bodies? An image of them floating in space made him shudder. He had to focus, there was still Hnene and Astiri, Wendy and Nguran's mate and youngest daughter to save. He had to be strong, and be the olo'eyktan.

People were joining with Eywa, seeking comfort and guidance. The three girls who had been killed were at the roots of the Seedling, being prayed over until they could be buried. Through the Tsahaylu the prayers were like a constant chatter, irritating because it ruined his concentration, dragging him towards the engulfing grief that Neytiri had already succumbed to. His head ached as he tried to block it.

Kieran woke with a start. "Max says they'll move, if that's what you want, Jake," he said.

"No," Jake said, "We leave Hell's Gate and we'll have the RDA swarming here again. No, we have to stay there, stay in control of supplies and technology and communications."

"So what must we do?" demanded a warrior. "The hostages cannot be saved unless you abandon that place but that place cannot be left."

"There is always another way," Norm said, "We just have to think of it."

"We have to get them to come to us," Jake said, "That's the only way."

* * *

It was pitch black. The only light came off their skin. The cooing of the two girls echoed around Mo'at who was cradling her grandson, desperately trying to wake him up. The little infant girls were floating at eye level.

With a cough, Tomas woke. Blood was crusted on one side of his head. But his eyes were focused.

Mo'at gathered the three infants to her chest, allowing them to float in her arms. All was silent.

Her eyes caught a line of black dots floating past. She frowned, touching one with her finger. She sniffed, then tasted, recognising the tang of her own blood.

The babies were asleep now. One by one, their glowing dots dimmed until it was completely dark. There was no sound. She was floating, she could feel nothing.

Would she notice when she died?

* * *

Max Patel was glaring at a ten-foot high image of the current crew of the ISV Endeavour. He was also shouting.

"Those weren't even Avatars," he said, slamming a hand down on the desk in front of him. "Except one, who is pregnant, by the way! The rest of them are true Na'vi. That's a breach of UN's Universal Charter on Environmental Conduct! No sample taking of specimens that haven't been pre-approved by the UN itself!"

The screen was split with a man with a muscular neck. "Well, they were speaking English," he drawled. "How were we to know? It changes nothing," he said in a low voice, his chest swelling. "You're squatting on our pad. Really, I'm a reasonable man – " Max's brows raised, " – but to be honest, this cute little gig of yours, it's not funny anymore. The Na'vi were fine with the RDA until you Avatars interfered. So when you tell the RDA to shove off, it's obvious to us that you want the place for yourselves, not for the 'good of the Na'vi'. I'm sure you already figured that you're fired – and seeing as you're no longer RDA employees, you have no right to their private property. So you move out, or I've got a nice little semi-automatic that I'm dying to re-enact a Men-in-Black scene with. I wonder if your blue friends have blue brains?" He grinned cruelly, revealing a golden capped tooth.

The military man turned off his video link, leaving the captain and crew blinking. "There's nothing else you can do," the captain said in a soft voice, "Davies and his friend Cole are in charge," she said, "I don't like doing this to you, but I can't do anything. Please, just do what they say. I don't want the death of women and children on my conscience."

* * *

Norm pulled himself reluctantly from the link chamber.

Greg was alone at the controls, and raised a hand. "Wendy's still in," he said, "I don't want to risk pulling the plug."

Norm looked over at Wendy's closed lid. "I don't know whether to worry," he said, "Surely she must be staying for a reason, and I hope it's not trouble, but if her Avatar was hurt or ... " he couldn't complete that thought, "she'd get out, right?"

Greg stood up, stretching and then shrugged. "Theoretically, but of course we've never been able to test that. I mean, _I_ think so, but there are others who think differently."

"Yeah, who?"

"Louise, Francis, Owen, Janine, to name a few." Greg glanced at his watch. "Louise said to me once, that the death of a body, with a soul inside causes irreparable damage that makes it impossible for the soul to exist in any body ..."

"A soul?" Norm's eye lingered on the green 'occupied' light on the lid of Wendy's chamber.

"She doesn't see Avatar-driving just as a miracle of science." Greg gave a half-laugh, "She thinks our souls actually leave our bodies, to go into the Avatars."

Norm rubbed his chest, where, although there was no mark, there were occasional twinges of pain. "Strange," he muttered.

"Sure is," Greg said. "I don't know how she can think that way." He shook his shaggy head, "Look, everyone's up on level three. That's where they're 'talking' to those people on the Endeavour."

Norm nodded. "I'll go there now," he said.

It was crowded on level three. All the Avatar drivers had returned to Hell's Gate and had dragged chairs around the hologram bay, arguing.

"I don't even know where they could be keeping them," Janine said, so short that she barely peeked over the top of the table. "Both the ISV and the Valkyrie are like giant bubbles of Earth-like atmosphere. Sure, the Na'vi can breathe it, but it's not good for their health."

"So you're basically saying they could be dying as we sit here doing _nothing?_" Louise demanded.

"I don't trust them," said a lanky man, pushing his glasses up his nose, "How can we be sure they'll give back the hostages, even if we did what they said?"

There were murmurs of agreement.

"Obviously we pretend, then," a man wearing a NYU shirt said, "Just, you know, say we agree, then when they come down, _boom_! We show them good, not to mess with us!"

"That's dumb," the guy to his left sneered. "You don't think they'll be expecting that? 'Sides, that Valkyrie can land anywhere that's got enough clearance, they've shown us already. They'll demand to meet us somewhere far away from here, then double-cross us and land at Hell's Gate and take over!"

Max frowned at the ground. "That could work ... "

"What?"

He looked up. "We let it happen. We empty the place out."

"Great," Mei said sarcastically. "You've gone crazy."

"No," Max said, "I repeat, we _empty_ the place."

"What are you saying?" Norm asked slowly.

"The only reason they want Hell's Gate is because it has all the technology they need to set up operations here. But," he waved at the controls behind him, "we take a few cables, and remove the Samsons, food supplies and they won't notice until it's too late. Then they're sitting ducks for us to come in, storm the place – with the Na'vi's help if they'll give it – and we don't have to worry about doing damage because we have all the parts we need somewhere else safe."

"It sounds nuts," Mei said.

"Nuts enough that it could work."

"Just a question," Norm said, "If it does come down to a fight, this place would be worthless to us afterwards if the air filtrations systems were compromised. How can we avoid them shooting that?"

"We take that too," Max said.

"I think they'd notice pretty quickly when they can't breathe here," Louise said.

"You'd think that, yes," Max said, "But this place is big. The air locks would keep enough air in here to fool them for a while; it just wouldn't replenish the air. Within a day or so, I bet they'd have used, or lost to opened doors, all the air they need. Then it's our time."

"A lot of things could go wrong," NYU guy said. "I mean, all that stuff, it'd take a while to remove. They'd get suspicious."

Max nodded. His eyes darted to Norm, "Yes, we'd need to do it quickly – and to do it that quick, we'd need, say, one hundred pairs of hands."

Norm's lips pressed together. "Okay," he said softly. "I see what you're getting at."

A few jaws dropped. "No offense, but the Na'vi don't even know what cables _are!"_ Mei said.

"They're not stupid," Louise snapped, "They can learn. How hard is it to say, 'pull this', anyway?"

"So we're agreed?" Janine said.

Mei crossed her arms.

"Great!" the woman next to her said brightly. "Norm, you better go and round up some volunteers. How fast do you think you can get them to come?"

Norm shrugged. "Nightfall?"

* * *

Jake had used Neytiri's condition as an excuse to escape the demands of the tribe. He was leading her across the platform so they could return to their room when Norm ran up to them.

"We had an idea," he said.

Jake paused. "Yes?"

Norm quickly told him, "... but we'll be needing help. Max said approximately one hundred should help. We'll need children to get into the human-sized service areas and strong adults to carry heavy things to the Samsons."

"That has got to be the most craziest battle plan I've ever heard," Jake said. He faced Neytiri, holding a hand to her cold cheek. "Neytiri? What do you think?"

Her dim eyes turned to him. "The Omaticaya would love to make Hell's Gate uninhabitable for humans."

"Okay." Jake left them, running to the centre of the platform and calling for attention. "We have a battle plan! We are going to set up a trap for the Sawtute, but the chosen ones need _our_ help to do it! I need children and strong hunters and warriors. Parents, your children will be safe, but only let them come if they will follow orders. We must all fly by ikran to do it in time. If you are coming to help, those with an ikran must pair with a child who doesn't. Please, stand over there," Jake yelled.

By the time the willing had arranged themselves, there were one hundred ikrans ready to fly. Thirty children stood at the sides of their ikran riders, who were mostly elder siblings or parents.

Neytiri gave her signature cry and leapt to the sky, Ghost gnashing her teeth with the fury of a mother's revenge.

They arrived just as the sun was setting. The Na'vi stood on the runway, looking curiously at Hell's Gate. Many had never even been close to the place, much less standing on its hard concrete. The humans of Hell's Gate were standing in exo-masks with wide stares at the small army of tall, strong Na'vi, and the children.

Upon arriving, Norm and Kieran had run off to return to their human bodies.

"Thity men, over here please!" Greg yelled. "Anybody, but you need to be strong!"

The Na'vi warriors shrugged, volunteering. Greg began to lead them to one of the warehouses where the weapons were kept, so they could remove all the ammunition. Jake noticed that the AMP suits stood at the edge of the forest, ready to be walked away by the humans at the last moment.

Max took twenty to move the dynamite from the mines. Janine took ten of the children to the greenhouses to disable the food-growing and to take the seed-starter packs.

Another thirty adults were taken to remove as much cabling and wires.

The last of the adults and children were accompanied by Norm and Louise to do the difficult task of disabling and removing the air-filtration systems. Children ended up squirreling into ventilation, giggling through the walls like mice.

Jake and Neytiri were among the cable-pullers. Trusting Jake, their team leader Angus had decided to get the couple to remove wireless routers. This involved using a screw-driver which was not easy, because to Jake's hand it was the size of a toothpick, and it wasn't easy for him to duck under desks either. He began to understand why the Na'vi children had been needed – an eight year old was as tall as fully-grown humans were.

The human air felt tangy and sweet. Neytiri worked with focus, silent. Occasionally she would pause, wiping a tear from her cheek.

Above their heads, two boys in the ceiling sang a warrior's song as they worked.

* * *

They had not wanted her to leave them, but Wendy had finally linked out. As she pushed the link-chamber open, it was pulled roughly and she was pulled into a crushing embrace.

"Kieran?"

He pulled back, hurriedly wiping his eyes. "Are you safe? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Wendy said, getting out. "I'm – I mean, my Avatar is in space. In space!"

Kieran was leading her to the computer bay. "The others?"

Wendy bit her lip. "I was in this room thing with the other two women – Hnene and Riyah." She sniffed, "their daughters ..." She focused on the coffee-maker, "weren't with us."

Kieran tapped a few keys. "Shit, come on," he hissed, "They've already got the network down."

Wendy's eyes widened. "The RDA? How did they do that?"

Kieran shook his head, "Oh, no, that's _us._ Part of the big rescue plan. Making Hell's Gate unusable. Look, we need you as our envoy. Once Angus removes all the cables for the satellites, the only link we have with them is you."

"I don't know if they will listen. My Avatar's in a box."

"They'll be listening. Otherwise, bang on the walls. But don't tell them why we won't open up video communications."

"So what should I tell them?"

"Not yet," Kieran said, "But say –" he glanced at his watch, "Okay, it's midnight, so say by dawn you tell them that we've agreed, that we've left. They'll do their scan mojo, find no heat signatures – the magnets in the link chamber will disguise you, land, spend a day here, then _choke!_ We attack!"

Wendy's brow lifted.

"We're removing the air filtration," Kieran said proudly as an explanation.

"And what about exo-masks? They bring their own!"

Kieran nodded, his face grimmer. "It'll slow 'em down, though. They won't realise it at first, and if they're sleeping at the time, even better. We all know it's a plan with a lot of risks, but – " he reached out and took her hand, "that's our child up there, Wendy. I know you – " he paused as she looked away uncomfortably, "I know it wasn't planned, but ... I want that kid, Wendy."

She swallowed, still looking away. "Of course ..." she sighed, "I do want her. It's just ... I guess I'm scared."

"That's normal."

Wendy and Kieran turned to the doorway, where Jake was squeezing himself in. "What are they doing to you up there?" Jake inquired, setting down the cardboard box as Neytiri ducked into the room.

"Nothing," Wendy said. "But if ... If the babies are alive, then they're not with us."

Neytiri cringed. "They want to keep the babies. That is what they said. Even if –" she growled, "they've already killed _mine_."

Jake patted her shoulder, wincing himself.

"I'm so sorry," whispered Wendy. "I didn't mean-"

"Tell us what happened after you left," Jake cut across her.

"Well, they took the girls, and we were pushed into an empty shipping container. After that, we left Pandora's atmosphere. We heard some banging, crashes as the Valkyrie docked, then ... nothing. We just floated. There's a bright light in our container, it hasn't turned off at all."

Neytiri had moved to the computer bay and was removing parts.

Kieran frowned at Wendy, "How can you even breathe? The Avatar?"

"I thought we'd run out of breathable air, but something's replenishing us. I guess the air-system for the Valkyrie is giving us oxygen. I mean, it tastes really weird, but we're fine."

Jake wrinkled his nose, "Yeah, I was wondering about that. Human air is really... sweet. It feels like I'm getting a cavity just breathing."

"Done," Neytiri said, returning. "This is the last place, no?"

"We should go help the weapons people," Jake said. "Take a rest Wendy. We'll need you for tomorrow."

"I'm not sure I can," Wendy admitted, "I'm so worried, I can't sleep. But thanks for the suggestion Jake."

Neytiri paused, then reached into her hip bag, which she hadn't removed since that morning's herb collecting. She pulled some small star-shaped flowers which Jake faintly recognised. "These help sleep," she said, giving one to Wendy. "Eat them."

Wendy looked down at the flower. "Thank you."

Neytiri twitched. "At least some of us can be helped."

She left the room.

Fifteen Samsons had been over packed. Some empty shipping containers had been moved to the airfield, filled with even more weapons, cables, filter systems and food-making systems, then strapped to the bottom of the Samsons so that they could carry the containers hanging below them. Few humans were visible – they'd marched off in AMP suits to hide them several miles away. As Neytiri and Jake crossed the airfield, a group of ikrans arrived with the human riders screaming as they clung to their Na'vi riders. Max literally ran from the ikran as soon as he'd landed, eliciting a laugh from the ikran rider. Sitting firmly on the concrete, Max muttered, "Just a little loop, he says ... "

"Hey," Jake said, crouching beside Max's shaking form, "is there any work left?"

"Erm, well there are the weapons," Max said, flushing and getting to his feet with a cough, "We got mostly everything, now we're just moving those damn flame-throwers."

Jake nodded, and headed for the weapons warehouse.

At the doorway, Neytiri lifted an AMP Suit knife, going through a few motions, ending by bring it down over her head. Straightening up, she said, "There are some throats I would like to slit."

Jake shrugged, "Personally, I'd like to break their necks with my bare hands."

For a brief moment they smiled at each other, connected in their desire to kill their son's murderers.

* * *

Three hours before dawn, the Samsons shuddered into the air. Ikrans with bladder lamps adorning them rose around the air-ships to guide them through the dark. Kieran, Norm and Wendy were watching from the windows of Hell's Gate as a flock of metallic storks took their precious cargo away over the trees, surrounded by what appeared like glow worms. Soon enough, the dots of light had faded into nothing and the roar of the Samsons a dull drone.

They went to the link chamber room. They each synced their wrist watches, and then set an alarm. "I hope this works," Norm said. "But look, Wendy, as soon as they've landed with you, you need to wait until the coast is clear before you get out of the chamber. They probably won't scan the place after they've moved in, so make sure you wait until _after_ that. And then hide."

"One thing," Wendy said. "When I'm there, they'll do a scan and they'll notice I don't show up, even though I'm linked to my Avatar. They'll get suspicious that others are in the chambers."

"Yes," Norm nodded. "There's a Na'vi standing not far from the perimeter fence. His body heat will show approximate to yours – but make sure you link out before they do the scan." He clasped his own hands together, "Good luck."

Wendy climbed into her chamber, and took a deep breath as the heavy lid closed. There was just her and the slight green glow. Then her toes faded away, followed by her fingers, and ... arms? Did she even have a neck? Cheeks, eyes, lips, numb ...

Light.

"Oww," Wendy groaned, squinting. Fingers were on her face, but retreated immediately. Hnene was peering at her. Wendy blinked against the harsh fluorescent tubes above.

"Tawtute," Hnene said, "We thought you had left us."

"I had," Wendy said, bumping into the wall. "I mean, I'm back. I have to..." she trailed off, turning and clinging with one hand, banging against the cold metal as loud as she could. "HEY!! HEY? WE ... GIVE ... UP!!!"

She stopped, pressing her ear to the wall. Could she hear sounds?

She started banging again. She could feel the other two's stares on her back, but she couldn't tell them – who knew if the place was bugged, and besides, every moment they wasted their children could be dying.

It felt like a long time later, but suddenly there was a banging in return. Wendy immediately stopped. "Hello?" she yelled.

There was a muffled reply.

"I can't – I can't hear – _OPEN THE DOOR! WE SURRENDER!"_

A pause. Then banging, not on the walls but near the corners, and it turned into a screech of metal on metal.

A sliver of darkness appeared, widening as the door swung open. A line of dots hovered, but then she realised it was seven exo-masks reflecting the lights in the container. Her eyes adjusted, revealing seven soldiers floating at the ready with weapons.

"We have tazers!" one announced.

Wendy put her hands around her distended stomach. They were shaking. "Hell's Gate has been evacuated. It's yours."

The men glanced at each other – one nodded, and disappeared from sight. A few silent minutes later they returned, with two strangers.

The first, Wendy noticed, was unlike his comrades in that his uniform was ill-fitting and worn. His boots – useless in the gravity-free environment – were the only thing that seemed cared for, shining with polish. But this was not a careless man, no. Wendy got the impression from his muscular neck and head held high that this was a man of priorities, whose honour lay not in his dress but in his deeds.

His partner was the opposite. Slight in build, immaculate uniform. His narrow shoulders curved inwards as if to ward off danger. He gave Wendy and the other two Na'vi women a critical eye through the exo-mask. "If that's so, how come _you're_ here?"

"Well, except me. I'm here to give the message."

"We expect you to leave, then," the thin one answered Wendy.

She looked to Riyah and Hnene, who had drifted into the back of the container, then turned back. "You do know that I'm the only Avatar?" She looked over her shoulder. "Show your hands," she said to the other two in shaky Na'vi.

Hnene and Riyah raised their hands, spreading their long fingers. The soldiers gripped their weapons tighter at the sight of three fingers and a thumb instead of the human configuration of the Avatars.

Recovering from this, the thin man said, "Well, yes, but still, - _you_ are an Avatar, and you will leave Hell's Gate."

"And you'll return us?" Wendy said. "And the children?"

She got no answer. "The children," she repeated, "They _are_ alright, aren't they?" There was a snarl behind her, Hnene or Riyah, she couldn't tell.

"Yes, we will return them too," the thin man said. His voice was strange, making her skin prickle. "But now, link out and leave."

Wendy bit her lip. Then she let her eyes roll back and her body go limp, body floating. She tried to keep her breathing light, her face blank. Hopefully none of them would realise that she hadn't really linked out. Her ears were the most difficult to control, to keep still.

"Close the door," the thin man snapped. "You, get that scan. I don't want to land to find they're hiding in their bedrooms."

The door slammed shut with a final bang.

Hands held her face. "She is gone," Hnene whispered.

Wendy didn't dare give a sign of consciousness, lest the room was being watched.

Pretending to be a sleep led to her drifting in and out of consciousness. She clung to her link. She thought of the child growing inside her, its infrequent gymnastics in the womb. Once, she hissed in a tiny breath at a strong kick. A hand pressed on her stomach, and softly Hnene and Riyah sang. They cared for her limp body as if they could somehow care for their own children through it. Their voices touched on desperate, mournful notes.

After some time, they drifted into a wall. Then they were pressed against it, increasingly. The pain of descent made her unborn child kick in distress. When it seemed like too much, the world suddenly tipped, and the three of them fell to the floor. Wendy automatically curled upon herself, protecting. They handed in a heap and she flopped, hoping the other two had not noticed. They cried out beside her. They were slowing, cruising.

And the Valkyrie landed.

Wendy felt a twinge, a shift deep inside her. With it came pain.

She gritted her teeth together. The urge to move, to open her eyes, to cry out was almost equal to the agony inside her. There was no breaking of the water, for Na'vi females reabsorbed that after the birth, but Wendy knew that it was too late.

Her baby was coming.

She started counting. Four-thousand seconds later, another contraction came.

Reluctantly, she let go of the link, and woke gasping in the link chamber. She wanted to touch her abdomen, stunned by the lack of pain. But she listened, intently, regretting her human ears.

Silence.

She jumped out, running to Kieran's chamber, pressing the red button, then to Norms without a second's pause. The two of them gasped and choked, but they leapt up. Under the desk in the middle of the room were weapons and exo-packs. The three of them took these. "You're early," Norm hissed.

"I ... they're here. And I had to get out."

Kieran gripped her arm. "Why?"

"Nothing," Wendy said, looking away. "They've been here an hour. We've got to hide."

Kieran let her go. "Yeah, this body's busting for the bathroom," he said. "The other plan had its flaws."

Shaking her head, they set off. Every corridor, door and turn was a risk – they couldn't be seen if the plan was to work.

They ended up in a large room that was hot and full of steam. Wiping his mask, Kieran said, "It's faint ... but can you guys smell something?"

"This is the waste treatment plant."

"Treatment of what?"

Norm wiped his mask and grimaced. "It's the only room they won't enter."

Wendy groaned in disgust. "And we have to stay here until they run out of air?"

Norm led them behind a huge water drum and sat with his back to it, pulling of his exo-mask and wiping his already sweaty brow. "Yep." He looked at Kieran. "You still want the bathroom?"

Kieran looked unenthusiastic, but nodded.

Norm pointed across the room to boxes that we half submerged into the concrete of the ground, pipes connecting them. "Open the lid on the one furthest to the right."

Kieran made a gagging sound, and followed the pipe out of sight. His grumbles of complaint echoed until he got back. He sat unhappily with Wendy and Norm. "This is the shittiest battle-plan ever."

"No shit, Sherlock," Wendy said. Then she groaned, and they laughed.

"You are so wrong," Kieran gasped, leaning his head back.

* * *

Samsons dotted the forest around the Nest. Most of the Omaticaya were up on the platform in the higher reaches of the tree, praying to Eywa.

Neytiri and Jake were some of the few who had approached close to the now Sapling, directly connected via the glowing tendrils. Neytiri's words to Eywa were Jake's focus, amplified through the Tsahaylu provided by the bead of unobtanium in his queue.

_I wander in this shadow between the suns ... and I am the Na'vi without a single spot upon the eyes, I am without the stars, I am without my map to guide me._

_One last touch, Eywa. My son is Omaticaya and I ask you, I beg you, for one note, for he never got to sing his song. One last sign so that I know he is safe._

She frowned, and Jake could feel her searching for a tiny cry amongst the voices of the past, that single high-pitched note of her lost child. She couldn't find it, and Jake felt his own fear along with hers.

Where was Tomas?

_**Not here.**_

Jake started. His eyes opened. Neytiri was sitting with tears rolling from her closed eyes, but she didn't show any sign of hearing what he had. He looked at the tree's tendril, connected with his queue.

_Hello?_ He thought.

_**The New One is not here.**_

It was a voice, perfectly clear, not to his ears but through the bond. It was almost familiar, a gravelly voice, yet smooth and echoey.

_Eywa?_

_**All is One and One is many.**_ It paused, and the next words seemed a struggle, _**I am ... I am taking long ... time, to ... wake. **_The last words were a sigh of relief.

_You're Eywa! I'm talking to Eywa! Where is my son, Tomas? Is he okay, with you?_

_**...**__**No.**_

_Where is he?_ _Why isn't he with you?_

_**I ... can't ...**_

The voice faded, and Jake felt the presence leave him. He opened his eyes, reaching for Neytiri, who jumped and opened her eyes at his touch. "Eywa spoke with me!" He gasped.

Her eyes lit up, and just as quickly dimmed again. "That is impossible."

"But She did. She said ... She woke up. Or something." Jake said the next words uncertainly, "She said Tomas wasn't with her."

Neytiri sniffed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Please, Jake. I cannot think of that." She stood up, disconnecting, and walked off.

Jake hurried after her, leaping through the seated crowd. It was midday, but cool inside the hollow innards of the tree. Neytiri flitted downwards, Jake at her tail.

At the very bottom, she squeezed and swung down through the tangled mass of vines, and took the last leap into the lake below. Without thinking Jake followed.

Neytiri lay on her back, floating. "I have lost my sister ... my father ... my mother ... my child ... "

She turned to look at Jake. "I have lost so much. Too much, it is against Eywa's way. Is that why she rejects my baby?" She sighed. Her tears leaked onto her wet face. "I am to be Tsahìk, which is to give my life to Eywa. There is nothing more she can take from me ... I am empty."

Jake treaded water, and laid his head on her stomach lightly. "Please, we can get through this." His voice cracked, "Don't lose yourself, Neytiri. I need you." He kissed her skin, working his way to her cheeks. "You haven't lost everything. I promise, I will stay here, with you and when you leave, we'll leave together."

Neytiri took his hand, still floating on her back, a limp doll. She raised it to her lips, pressing the back of his hand with a cold kiss.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I feel distinctly evil. Quaritch-level evil. Please don't stick poison arrows in me!


	13. Let Them Burn

**Chapter Twelve – Let Them Burn**

_In that dark hour before the world ends_

_Let us light a thousand fires_

_So that the stars may see us_

_And know we still breathe; our souls still burn._

* * *

Wednesday

The Valkyrie landed late afternoon. Immediately the ramp descended, a stream of men with guns running down, forming a ring around the ship facing outwards.

"CLEAR!"

Half stepped forward, quickly forming five groups which split into different directions. One set ran straight to the refinery towers, etched clear against the sky, only four smoking – the hydrogen and antimatter pipes, and a small trickle from the air filtration. Other groups ran to the hangar, the warehouse, the employee complex and the last group by-passing the greenhouses with a glance through the glass walls at the green shapes inside towards the three huge dozers.

Airlocks hissed loudly.

In the Valkyrie, a muscled man leaned forward. Over the commlink a series of voices shouted, "CLEAR!"

"Proceed."

A pause, then, "Colonel?" It was the third link, the one in the hangar. "The ships are gone. All of them."

The muscled man swore. Before he could reply, the fourth link piped up, "AMP suits gone. And all the ammo."

The first link: "Dynamite's gone. Should we continue, Colonel Cole?"

Cole answered in the affirmative, then turned to the man at his shoulder, who was significantly taller. "I told you, didn't I? Those mother-" he held himself back from swearing, "They're going to attack us with our own damn artillery."

"We have to set up base," said the man at his shoulder. "No matter what ... issues we face."f

They had to endure a two hour long investigative operation. The repetition of "CLEAR!" did not ease the tension of the RDA employees. But at last, with no sign of life, they moved in.

Then they discovered that all communication with the ISV was impossible from the communication tower. Colonel Cole stood, fuming as a young man rapidly typed. "There's no... it's saying the router's down. Can't communicate with the satellite."

"Then use the fucking wires."

The young man typed some more, frowned, then ducked under the desk. He emerged, looking embarrassed. "There aren't any."

"What?"

"Gone."

"Then fix the router."

"No – it's taken. The wires, the router. They've stopped our communication. We'll have to do it from the Valkyrie."

"Do we have any replacements?"

"No ..." another man piped up, "it's made on site."

A beat, then the thin man beside Cole said, "Then make it."

The young man at the computer glanced down. "Yessir."

"How long will it take?" the thin man asked the second solider.

"Forty-eight hours," was the answer.

The only upside, it appeared, was that there was food. In storage there was enough for two days – but they didn't worry, because the artificial food production ran on a three day schedule, they knew. The greenhouses would be checked later. Dinner that night was eaten with general camaraderie.

Sometime around midnight, Cole was approached by two gun-wielding men. "The hostages, sir. Should we release them?"

Cole looked around the office they were in. An indigene's necklace hung framed on the wall. The whiskey he'd found was the only good thing there. "No," he said slowly. "Those Avatar-drivers double-crossed us." He shook his head. "No, we'll strike a deal with them tomorrow. Make sure everyone's present for a briefing. Oh-eight-hundred hours, just out there," he pointed into the control room.

* * *

12:53 PM Thursday

"Can we kill them yet?" Kieran complained.

Norm rested his head back against the cool water drum, eyes closed. "_No."_

"Please?" Kieran added. A hiss of steam accompanied his voice. "We've been here ... twenty two hours. I'm _bored."_

"This is the real fight," Norm replied. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Norm?"

The three of them froze, staring at Norm, whose eyes had opened and fingers had jumped to his throat where the long-forgotten communicator sat.

"I – I'm here," Norm coughed.

Kieran jumped down off the pipe he'd be balancing on, drawing closer to listen.

Jake's disembodied voice continued, "We've got an issue," he growled.

Norm sat up. "What? Why? What's happened?"

The reply was replaced by crackling, booms, and far off shouting. Jake swore and the link was silent.

* * *

_03:43 PM Wednesday_

Jake had watched when the Valkyrie had landed. He and three others crouched on the high boughs of a tree on the hill overlooking Hell's Gate. It was a dangerous place to be – the RDA employees would hopefully pass off the small pockets of heat signatures as normal forest life, and not Na'vi.

Nguran dropped down from the branch above, landing silently. "My mate, Riyah. Where is she?"

Jake raised an arm towards the Valkyrie. "Hopefully in there."

Nguran leaned forward, eyes calculating the distance to the ground. "No," Jake hissed.

The other warrior stopped, rocking back on his heels. "They have landed. We get the hostages now."

"We walk near there, and they'll shoot. The hostages, us, they won't care who eats the bullets. I know how these guys work."

The hunter on Jake's other side huffed audibly. Jake shot him a glance, for a Na'vi hunter and warrior knew to breathe silently. The man's hand was clenched around his bow.

"Pe'txan?"

The man turned to Jake. "I would put ten arrows in them before they kill another Omaticaya," Pe'txan growled. His daughter was one of the dead.

"Mawey" Jake warned.

The warriors waited impatiently all through the day, but not once did the Na'vi hostages appear. Eventually night drew upon them, and in the falling dusk the three men dropped down to the leaf-litter, clicking their tongues. The fa'li appeared. The warriors mounted, laying against the necks of the horses. Letting the fa'li pick their way down the hill towards the fence, the trio closed their eyes, breathing carefully so that their luminescent spots would dull.

They passed another scout going the other way, spots lighting up for a second of acknowledgement. Around them, the usual sounds of the forest continued. Foraging creatures ran away into the underbrush. The chuckle of nantangs hunting. Because of the floodlights at Hell's Gate, the foliage was dark. Soon the men were close enough not to worry about their spots, which dimmed in the presence of light.

The three fa'li began to graze just below one of the guard towers on the perimeter fence. From above, the voices of men drifted down.

"... so freaky," one was saying.

There was laughter. Three men in total including the speaker, Jake guessed.

"What do you think Colonel Cole's gonna do with them?" another man asked after a pause, his tone genuinely curious.

There was a clinking sound. "It isn't like him," the third said in a low voice. "I served a term with him – years ago. He was paranoid, I tell you, if there were civilians around."

"Doesn't trust 'em?"

"Nah, nah – didn't want us hurting them. 'Specially kids. Colonel's got a real soft – shit! Do you see that?"

Jake's fingers itched for his knife, but he spread them against the pa'li. His ears were turned upwards. Had they been spotted?

One of the men swore. "That thing was big. What was it, a pterodactyl?"

Jake opened his eyes, meeting Nguran's. Nguran shook his head slightly, both to tell Jake that they hadn't been seen, and that he didn't know what the humans were looking at.

"Nah, pterodactyls don't have heads like those. They was in that book."

"Didn't look at it," the other man said, sighing. His boots thudded.

"I flicked through it," the third said. "Ah, can't remember ... ban-something."

"Banshee," one remembered. He laughed in relief. "Fuck, that thing was huge."

"Everything's huge here," one of the men grumbled.

The other laughed. "Yeah, man! Did you see that savage? She was like this!"

The low voiced man said, "That was an Avatar, man."

There was silence. Then, "Shit? You mean she ... with a savage?"

"Or another Avatar," the third man said. "That's nasty. Like doing it with an animal."

"You'd like to do it with an animal."

"I've already had plenty of animals in my bed."

The men joked and taunted each other further. A few hours later another set appeared, taking the next shift. Jake, Nguran and Pe'txan took turns sleeping through the night.

It was only a few hours into the morning when there was a real change. First, a group of soldiers marched out to the Valkyrie, exo-masks on. From the Valkyrie, using a forklift, two shipping crates were pulled out onto the empty tarmac. The three warriors, leaving the fa'li in the forest, crept on their stomachs to the fence, noses only inches away from the electrified wires, pressed into the damp morning earth under the cover of ferns. The skin of their noses tingled the closer they leaned to the wires. The second shipping container was opened. Soldiers marched in. There was shouting. Men ran out, dropping their guns outside on the ground, then back in. The blue bundles in their arms were still.

Suddenly one of the men shouted. "It pissed on me!"

Jake laughed in relief. But then, the last few soldiers came out. Wind rushed across the tarmac, and the warriors were downwind. Old blood – Jake could almost taste it.

Mo'at's form was clear on the stretcher. Her hand shook, clutching one of the men's sleeves. The man was shaking his head, pushing at her shoulder. Jake strained his ears. "Go ... tell them ...bargain..." were the few words he caught.

Mo'at rolled off the stretcher. A man with a gun was prodding her. She was slumped, weak, barely standing. Her arms were reached out towards the three babies held by soldiers. More guns were raised at her. She began to walk unsteadily towards the main gate of Hell's Gate, the men following her, threatening. They opened the gate, pushing her through.

Jake signed at the other two to stay where they were, crawling back rapidly into the forest, and running towards the gate.

He found Mo'at on her knees just beyond it. Soldiers were standing behind the gates, guns pointed. The men lifted the barrels at the sight of Jake.

Jake hissed, running to Mo'at, pulling her up by the armpits. Her skin was ice-cold. Holding her upright to him, he shouted, "You have the place. Give back our people!"

"It's an Avatar," one of the men noted to the others.

The leader spoke up, addressing Jake."Oh yeah? Then where are the cables? Where is the ammo, the ships? Unless you give them back, you're not getting your 'people'."

"You have your own ammo," Jake said.

Behind the soldiers, Jake saw movement. One of the huge bull-dozers was slowly turning. Jake frowned. "What's that?" he growled.

The soldiers glanced at each other in confusion, and then turned at the dozer heading for the gates.

"That?"

"Yes," Jake growled. "_That."_

"Getting to work. Hear there's a nice new quarry out at sector twelve."

Jake growled. If it weren't for Mo'at's shaking form, he would have leapt at them and strangled them through the gate. "You don't want to do that," he snarled. "You're asking for a war."

A man sauntered up to the standoff. He was wearing short sleeves, his arms crossed over his chest. "What's your name, Avatar?"

"Jake Sully."

There was a ripple through the line of soldiers. Behind his exo-mask, the man's brows raised. "Uh huh. I recognise you. Your bitch was the one who escaped."

"You fucking killed my son," Jake replied.

The man glanced at the soldiers.

Mo'at's hands curled at Jake's neck. He glanced at her in surprise as she breathed, "He lives."

Jake felt his throat clench.

"None of them are dead... yet," the man confirmed. He frowned. "How come you're linked?"

Jake thought fast, "Remote link sites." He leaned towards Mo'at's ear. "Can you walk?" she nodded slightly, freeing herself from him and stumbling away into the undergrowth and out of sight. Jake heard a rustle and Nguran's low voice behind him as the warrior aided the Tsahìk. Facing the soldiers he demanded once again, "Give up the hostages. At least the children. They'll be so hungry. You're killing them. I ..." he hesitated, "I was a marine too, once. I know you don't want to do this. You don't want to kill kids."

The muscled man laughed bitterly. "You need some perspective, 'Marine'. You want to accuse us of killing some overgrown blue cats? You know all too well that there are people, _real_ people," he jabbed a finger to the sky, "back on Earth, who _depend_ on this enterprise. Millions, no, billions. And you're asking me to pass up all those kids, my children, my people – _your_ people, for something that no matter how long you're here, you'll never completely be part of? Face it, you're still an alien to them. You telling me there has been not even fone moment you haven't felt lost or unsure? Like you came here and could walk the walk and talk the talk? Bullshit. You think you're better than us? You think turning your back on an entire planet makes you _better?_ The RDA is doing everyone a favour, they're helping the helpless. The RDA, not you. And they will do what it takes. So a few bugs are squished on the way? Boo-hoo. You're a criminal Jake Sully, and guess what? I'm Colonel Cole, _I'm _the fucking judge. So you stop your little game and give back our shit by tomorrow morning, or we leave those three babies out on the tarmac to roast." He looked over his shoulder and said casually, "I heard it can get pretty hot under direct sunlight in these parts."

Jake glared long and hard at Cole. "Oe Na'vi, Ayoe Na'vi. Nga rä'ä tsun tslam._" I am Na'vi, as we are Na'vi. You cannot understand. _He said the words softly but clearly, knowing that the humans would not understand the words. Then he slipped into the forest, almost finding his fellow scouts immediately. Behind him was the roar of the dozer passing through the gates.

Mo'at was slumped on a pa'li. "She is very weak," Nguran said quietly, walking to Jake. "She will not make the ride to the Nest."

"Then we will ride fast," Jake said, swinging up behind Mo'at, using one hand to hold her, another to hold the queues. They set off at a gallop. The dozer, although slower, mostly kept pace with them. Hometree was close enough to the Nest that the dozer was heading in the same direction.

By pa'li, the ride took the rest of the day and the night. The dozer was joined by a second and moved to the east towards Kelutral halfway through the evening. The riders barely stopped, only to trickle water into Mo'at dry lips. Her eyes were closed, flickering erratically under pale lids. The bullet holes in her lower back had seeped blood all over the pa'li and Jake's legs.

Not far from the Nest, riders came out to greet them. Neytiri was amongst them. Seeing her mother, she cried out, leaping from her pa'li and running to Jake who forced his pa'li to stop in mere seconds. "Sa'nu, Oel ngati kameie. Sa'nu?" Neytiri said, her hands going to her mother.

"She isn't awake to hear you," Jake said,

Neytiri choked, mounting her pa'li and tailing Jake as the party accompanied the olo'eyktan and the warriors back to the Nest. As soon as he dismounted, Jake pulled Mo'at onto his back. Her slack body was not capable of holding on, so Neytiri bound a cloth around Mo'at and Jake's middle. Then, as fast as he could with his burden, Jake climbed up to the inner spiral and ran.

Many of the Omaticaya were standing before the Seedling for morning prayers. They parted before Jake as he ran the last stretch to the Seedling. There, Neytiri unbound Mo'at and Jake laid her at the base of the Seedling, where its roots twisted into the wood of the Nest.

Mo'at's pale hand reached for the fibres of the young tree. Her eyes were still closed as she said, "My daughter."

Neytiri knelt beside her mother, taking her hand. "The healers are coming."

Her mother's eyes opened. "Why? This is not a breaking in me," Mo'at looked to the new Tree of Voices, "I am to be with Eywa. As we live, I have been but a lonely part, an atokirina floating on the wind. And now I will land, spread my roots to become one with Eywa. And I will be with all I have lost, and together we will be One." She choked for breath, "I have missed my own parents, my cousins, my Eytukan. Tell the healers to leave their potions. I am being cured."

Neytiri made a small sound, fat tears tripping from her eyes. "I cannot do this," she whispered. "Mother. I am not ready."

"We can only be ready for our own deaths," Mo'at said.

"No ... I cannot be Tsahìk."

Mo'at's eyes closed. She was beyond speaking now.

"Sa'nu?" Neytiri whispered. There was no reply. Neytiri shook her mother's hand. "Sa'nu... Sa'nu!"

Jake gasped as his link flared up as Mo'at joined Eywa. Neytiri looked to him, shaking her head desperately, tugging on her mother's limp hand.

"Sa'nu, don't, please, mother ..."

Jake held her shoulders, gently prying her fingers away. He pulled her up until she stood, turning her away. The whole of the Omaticaya stood frozen, watching the spectacle. Many had tears upon their faces.

Nguran, who was at the front, knelt. "... Tsahìk Neytiri."

Neytiri looked over her shoulder up at Jake. Suddenly remembering, he leaned to her ear and whispered, "We were wrong. Tomas lives."

She struggled for breath, nails digging into the backs of his hands. She turned back to the Omaticaya, meeting Nguran's gaze. "I have heard that the Sky People plan to tear Eywa from the ground and make her bones into their spears and bows."

"If we are to stop them reaching the fallen Hometree," said Jake, "We must fly now."

There was a roar from the crowd, and immediately warriors began to hurry up to the eyrie. Through the rushing crowd a group of Omaticaya approached the couple. A woman with a surprisingly lithe body, even for a Na'vi, greeted them with a lilting voice. "We shall care for her," she said, eyes falling to Mo'at, "until you return. And we will all sing for your victory."

"Irayo, Ninat," Neytiri said, pulling from Jake's grip and taking hold of the singer's hand. Then she joined the throng climbing up to the ikrans.

Taking to the skies, Jake sensed anxiousness in Atan. The ikran's heart was beating erratically, and Jake had to even tell him firmly to head east when Atan tried to veer south. Jake's irritation matched his confusion when he heard Neytiri's surprised scream and turned to see Ghost dash to his side. Still flying, the ikran pair managed to rub cheeks. Neytiri yelled in annoyance as Atan's wing flattened down upon her.

"What's going on?" Jake yelled.

"The eggs!" Neytiri replied. "I want – _She_ wants to go back."

Jake gritted his teeth, urging his ikran forward. He too could begin to feel Atan's strong desire to veer south, as if it were his own. It took all he had to continually urge them forward.

Soon enough the giant yellow form of two dozers carving through the old track to Hometree appeared below. On top of each, armed soldiers guarded the sights. Clearly they knew from reports that these were weak points.

The flying warriors dove. Jake felt through the Tsahaylu with Atan when a bullet powered right through the ikran's wing, both of them growling at the pain. In retaliation, Jake notched an arrow and let fly.

Soon enough, eight humans lay still. Dismounting, Jake leaned into the camera lens and yawned. "I always hated reruns." Then he took a step back and pulled out a wasp revolver. The trigger was barely big enough for his pinkie, but he still took great pleasure in casually aiming it and feeling the slight shiver that went up his arm as he fired. Blowing imaginary smoke from the barrel he put the safety on and tucked it back into the holster attached to his loincloth, prepared to jump onto Atan... but the ikran was gone. Glancing around he saw the unmistakable creature growing smaller and smaller on the horizon.

Jake swore.

Then, underneath his feet, the dozer shuddered; but it didn't stop. Instead it accelerated.

A few other warriors dropped down onto the mechanical beast's back. "What is happening?" demanded one.

"I don't know." Jake frowned. "Give me a moment." He turned and pressed his fingers to the band at his throat. "Norm?"

"I – I'm here," Norm coughed.

"We've got an issue," Jake growled.

"What? Why? What's happened?"

There was a boom. Jake looked up, his eyes widened as out of the jungle rolled two 'slash-cutters' spraying debris from their sharply toothed rotating disk. The Slash-cutters were almost the same size as the dozers, using the same caterpillar tracks and solid body to cross Pandoran terrain. The big difference was the three-hinged arm, much like a crane's that protruded from the front of the vehicle, the end of which held the deadly blade.

Unlike the dozers, these did not have cameras. Jake didn't know much but he knew – from various, long-ago talks with Norm and Grace – that the 'pizza-cutters' as they were fondly nicknamed, worked on a type of sonar, because that could judge density, programming the speed of the blade to match the hardness of that which was to be sliced. The arm of the first slash-cutter rose, blade spinning against the wing of an ikran flying past. The winged beast let out an ear shattering shriek, spinning away, spraying blood and flinging its rider into the jungle. "Shit!" Jake yelled, his hands dropping to his knife. The ikran riders were spiralling up, out of reach of the lethal forest clearing machines.

Jake leapt from the dozer towards the wounded ikran, which was flapping its shredded wing against the ground. It did not even see him as he pulled his knife and dug it into the screaming creature's eye. His arm plunged through flesh halfway to his elbow and blood gurgled out. He hurriedly whispered the strongest prayer he knew, regretting this kill more than any other in his time as a hunter.

The ikran flapped once more and lay still. Jake gulped, wriggling his toes in the hot blood on the forest floor. Killing, even in true mercy, always leaves a stain. The blood seared his skin.

There was no time to wait. The slash-cutter had raced to the side of the dozer, guarding its progress. Allowing it to pass him at a safe distance, he eyed it for weakness. It appeared as if the blade arm had, at most, one hundred degrees up and down, one-eighty side to side, if Jake's guess was correct.

He jogged behind it, a warrior appearing at his side.

Nodding at him, the two hitched themselves onto the back of the moving vehicle, climbing up onto the top. His eyes ran over the smooth lines of metal. Up there the air tasted odd. The warrior beside him gagged, moving forward.

"Tatau, fpak," Jake warned, grabbing the young man's arm to hold him back. He pointed to the debris spraying from the blade. Tatau's eyes grew, and he nodded sharply.

"What must we do?"

Jake leaned over the side. Still more metal, but nothing like a stop button. He pulled Tatau with him as he scrambled down the back again and stepped to the edge of the forest. His hand went to his neck.

"Norm. What do you know about the slash-cutters?"

There was a sigh of confusion. "Uhm, well, it uses a rotating carbon-fibre composite disk of-"

"How do I stop one?"

There was muffled talking, then, "I don't ... Jake, I don't know _everything."_

"Yes," Jake ground out. "Still, surely there's some wire I can cut or rock I can throw?"

Another muffled pause; "Heat it."

"What?"

"It uses liquid helium to keep the blade cool. If it isn't cold, it over heats and – well, it melts."

Jake looked at the slash-cutter disappearing through the trees and growled. "Sure, Norm, I'll just go get my blow torch and..." Jake blinked. "You're a genius Norm."

"Huh?"

"Stay hidden," Jake said. "Talk to you later." Jake broke the connection with Norm, and then moved his fingers, saying, "Neytiri?"

"Where are you Jake? I cannot see Atan."

"Atan left," Jake said. "He's got his own kids to care for."

"Yes," Neytiri agreed. "Jake... these tree-breaker beasts, how are we stopping them?"

"Fire," Jake replied. "Go to the Samson just north of here, get the big yellow guns. Then bring them back, and when you're here I'll explain everything. I'll follow them in the meantime."

The link fell silent.

Jake walked steadily behind the dozers, his legs easily able to keep pace with the convoy of crashing and crushing vehicles. Dappled sunlight was replaced by clear streams as the forest was cut. Although the dry season was cooler, it was still a tropical area. And an infant – human or Na'vi – would get quickly dehydrated if left in the sun on a insulating, reflective material such as concrete, especially since it was almost a day since their last feed. It would be a painful death.

The things people do when they're sure nobody's watching. Sometimes it was just hypocritical or crude. But sometimes, like now, it was truly horrendous.

However, there _was _someone watching. The Na'vi were watching. Eywa was watching. And they didn't approve, not at all.

After a while, a group of about thirty ikran landed in the debris of the dozers, each rider jumping down with a flame thrower. Due to their relative size, the yellow weapons were only the length of a Na'vi forearm. Luckily, humans were supposed to use all four fingers to hold the trigger, which was enough room for a Na'vi finger. Jake took his own and led a group of Na'vi towards the unsuspecting slash-cutter trundling over fallen logs.

Using hand signals to show them what to do, Jake was the first to climb up the back, across the warm metal. They dropped down just behind the huge arm. Jake froze, breath stopping in his throat. The slash-cutter continued to tear through the forest, seemingly unaware of the group of warriors on it. It was like trying to do dentistry on a lion with your bare hands.

Pe'txan and Tatau appeared at his side, eager to show their bravery and loyalty to their olo'eyktan. Suddenly, Tatau leapt forward, scaling the long arm of the machine, Pe'txan hot on his heels. Jake growled, but the newly initiated warrior Tatau was beyond reproach, eager to prove himself. Pe'txan was fuelled by a father's revenge, something Jake could easily understand. One hand to balance himself of the swinging arm of metal, Jake followed.

The trees here were thinning, mostly saplings. Burnt logs snapped under the weight of the trundling vehicles. Jake knew they were close to Kelutral. How long did they have to make their stand? How long did he have? He tried to focus, tried to ignore the dry feeling in his throat.

Dry. The Na'vi babies would be weak with thirst and hunger. All those hours since their last feed...

The rotating blade whizzed through empty air. This was their chance, because now that the blade wasn't slicing through trees, it would no longer spray debris at a deadly velocity, allowing them to get close.

Tatau was only an arm's length from the blade. He wrapped his legs around the arm, holding the flame thrower in his hands.

The boiling point of helium is four-point-two degrees Kelvin above absolute zero. In other words, the liquid that kept the blade from melting is extremely cold. However, this did not mean that they had to heat the blade by several thousands of degrees to melt it. They simply needed the helium to boil and evaporate to a point where friction would do the rest. It was all approximation, Jake knew, and dangerous – especially if it didn't work. It was their only choice, however.

Tatau aimed, pulled the trigger, and a huge jet streamed down onto the blade. A cloud of gas immediately appeared. He choked, and yelled triumphantly, his voice as high as a girl's. Pe'txan laughed, sliding up and wrapping his legs around the arm of the slash-cutter. He aimed his flamethrower over the younger warrior's shoulder, doubling the stream.

Shakily, Jake sat behind them, leaned around the left and began firing while a fourth warrior sat beside him, leaning far to the right.

It was hard to breathe. His vision was swimming. No air. The evaporating helium was going to choke them. The whine of the blade was getting higher.

The arm suddenly jerked, alive. All three men, and the woman behind Jake yelled, high pitched. If it wasn't so terrifying, Jake would have laughed at their voices, turned into chipmunks by the helium. The arm slung rapidly to the left as the vehicle rolled to a halt. Tatau yelled in pain as flames licked his arm. The arm was rising higher as well. The blind machine seemed to know they were there. Probably an alarm system on the blade temperature. They rose even higher, and Jake was clinging, shouting, "Keep the fire! Keep firing!" The arm was vertical. The four of them were only holding on by their legs. Jake switched his flame thrower to one hand, reaching out his other to the woman behind him. Her arm twisted through his elbow, nails digging into his abdomen.

Then the arm plunged down. Jake felt himself rising off the metal, stuck in freefall. The arm halted inches from the ground. The men yelled as they slammed down onto the hard metal. Tatau was yelling something. His voice deepened for a moment as the gas cleared a little, "It is making noise!"

The blade was still spinning under the flames, helium billowing, but the whine was louder. The arm swung sharply to the right, then to the left, zigzagging upwards, then plunging again. Faintly, Jake could hear similar screams as those who were working on the other slash-cutter fought against the bucking arm.

Underneath all the sound, Jake heard something new. It was a crackling sound. At first he thought it was the fire, but it was different, accompanied by a metallic ping.

The arm swung up suddenly, and there was a grinding sound, and through his squinting eyes Jake saw something rocketing through the helium mist. There was a screech from an ikran and a cheer from above. Tatau yelled, "It flew away!"

"What?"

"The blade. It flew away!"

The arm had jerked to a halt. Jake could just picture the RDA back at Hell's Gate. Some alarm would be flashing, some reading missing, controls not working. That muscled man – Cole – their leader? – would be swearing. Some young kid at the controls.

"Get down, get down," Jake yelled, flipping his legs over one side. It was a long way to fall, but he jumped anyway. His legs juddered as he landed, pain spiking up his back. The others thudded beside him, landing on all fours as he had. The woman who'd been behind him on the slash-cutter straightened, wincing. "No jump, next time, olo'eyktan. Ground too hard here."

"Completely agree, Peyral," Jake groaned, turning to watch the other slash cutter's blade grind to a stop. Hell's Gate had gotten the message apparently. Even the dozers had braked.

Neytiri ran over from the other slash-cutter. "They are stopped now."

Jake stepped forward and crushed her to his chest. Neytiri pressed her nose to his neck and carefully pulled away. Her eyes flicked to the dozers, a silent sign to him that they still had work to do.

Jake narrowed his eyes at the dozers. Blind, without protection, it would be difficult for the RDA to continue. But they had maps of the area, and the machines were of such a size and so impervious that they could just power forwards ignoring the Na'vi.

"We're not finished," Jake said. He touched the band at his neck. "Norm!"

"Jake, please, tell us what's happening –" Norm's voice was annoyed.

"We broke the slash-cutter blades. We haven't got long. I'm going to be busy here for a while. I need you guys to save the hostages. Do you think you guys can masquerade as RDA?"

"It's the middle of the day. Hopefully we can get into the dorms and get some uniforms."

"Do that," Jake said. "I don't know where they put the hostages. But Norm, you _need_ to give the babies some water. If they're not ... not _dead_ already, they will be soon. Do you hear me?" He tried to keep his voice controlled. The thought of Tomas dying was agony.

"Yes," Norm said. "Babies, water. Got it. We'll, uh ... see you Jake. Good luck."

* * *

It had taken some effort, but Norm, Wendy and Kieran had eventually got to the dorms. A pair of security personnel had been spotted at the end of the corridor and so the three had jumped into the room. It seemed the half dozen occupants had had to leave in a hurry. Suitcases were open, earthly reminders such as photographs, pyjamas, even a stuffed animal laid tumbling out onto beds and floor. It was a women's room. At the end of the three bunks, a shelf held numerous articles of clothing, even a pair of boots. With no sense of decorum, Wendy grabbed the closed set of clothes and began to change.

The voices of the two guards came closer, passed the door and faded away. Wendy pulled on the boots. They were big. She wrapped the shoelaces under her foot and back over again to stop them slipping. Her clothes went into the ventilation shaft. Norm peered into the hallway. "Around the bend are the male dorms. Come on."

Norm flitted out, Kieran hot on his heels. Wendy paused, and then grabbed the soft toy, stuffing it into one of the oversized pockets of her pants. She closed the door behind her and ran after the men.

Once the two men were dressed they went into the next room to scavenge canteens, hooking them to their belts. Norm touched his longish hair and swore. "They're never going to believe –"

"Sorted." Wendy had been snooping in a bag and stood, an electric razor in her hands. "Dorm bathroom's right next door."

Norm looked unhappy, but Kieran steered him out. Leaning him over a toilet bowl so they could get rid of the evidence, Wendy shaved Norm into the best semblance of a military haircut that someone who'd never given a haircut could give. She even pulled Kieran down to shorten his back and sides. The two dusted their hair over the bowl and flushed.

"I feel naked," Norm complained.

"Deal with it," Wendy growled. "Come on." She dropped the razor by a sink and began to fill their bottles.

Norm peered at his near-bald appearance in the mirror. "My ears stick out so much –"

Wendy huffed, grabbed his wrist and stormed from the bathroom.

"Hey there."

Wendy and Norm stopped short. The security guard was stood a few feet from them. The door had swung shut behind Norm and Wendy. She hoped Kieran would have the brains to hide.

The guard came closer. "What're you doing? It's full duty roster." His eyes dropped to Wendy's fingernails biting into Norm's wrist. He smirked. "Oh. I see how it is. Checking everything's still working after six years of rest?"

Norm frowned in confusion. "Wha -?"

Wendy was quicker. She bumped her hip to Norms and laughed. "Yeah, you got us." She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "It still works." Her hand slid from Norm's wrist and gripped his fingers, squeezing. She winked at the guard.

He raised his brows and chuckled. "Right. Well, maybe after curfew, okay? Get back to work." He pretended to tip his hat and walked on, whistling.

Wendy rolled her eyes at Norm's face and poked her head back into the bathroom. "Kieran," she hissed, "Come on!"

Kieran was glowering as they jogged out of the dorms. Wendy whacked him on the shoulder. "We would have been killed if that guard found out the truth," she said.

His eyes widened and he nodded. "I know. Just ... when this is over, can we get married?"

"What?" She sped up around a corner.

"I know you want to be Na'vi full time once the kid's born and they don't really have marriage ceremonies, but I don't care," Kieran puffed to keep up.

"Is this really the time?" Norm said.

"You know how I feel about marriage," Wendy retorted, ignoring Norm.

"I know, but it would mean –" he wheezed, "so much to me."

"Hey, guys!" Norm said. They were nearing the command centre, slowing to a walk to appear normal. "Um, guys?"

Kieran reached for Wendy's arm. "I know we did this all wrong. You don't think I feel stupid already? I'm thirty-three years old, I have a doctorate, and I'm on a moon-planet four-point-three light years away from Earth; and yet I still managed to get a girl knocked up like a sixteen year-old."

"Guys," Norm warned. "Come on, we've got to –"

"Shut up!" Kieran said, stopping, and yanking Wendy to a stop. He placed his fingers on her temple. "It's not like I'm asking to share a mortgage with you, or expect you to give up your job, or tie you down or whatever else you think marriage does... I just want to promise that I'll love you and our kid forever. Don't you want that?"

Wendy closed her almond eyes. When she opened them, a single tear was caught on her eyelashes. She furiously wiped it a way and shot a glare at Norm. She looked back at Kieran, her jaw tight. Her words were slow and perfectly pronounced. "I am having the fucking baby right now. The longer we wait, the more likely she will die."

Norm gulped, and red had risen into Kieran's cheeks. "Shit. How do you know?"

"It started just before I linked out."

"What?" Norm was aghast. "But that was ..." he counted on his fingers, "almost twelve hours ago!"

Wendy nodded her head quickly. "Yes. So, um, Kieran, can we talk about this later?"

He nodded silently.

The three walked into the main control centre. Wendy halted at the sight of a muscular man who turned to them. "You look familiar," he growled, pointing a pen at her.

"Y-yes sir," she said, standing up straight. "I'm ... _We're_ here to report to you."

"Oh, yes," he nodded knowingly as if he knew who she was. "You must be Jenkins. How's the operation?"

"All good sir," Wendy bluffed. "Everything's going smoothly."

The man chewed on his pen. "Didn' expec' tha," he muttered around it. "Those buggers have go' more figh' than tha'. Right, well then, they mus' be tryin' to ge' in here." He pulled the pen from between his teeth. "Well, you can go take over from Hawkes and his team." He went to turn away.

"Uh, Sir, where would that be?" Wendy asked carefully.

The man turned back around, one brow quirked. Then he grunted. "Oh, yes. We moved them. They have been moved into –" he clicked his fingers as the man beside him. "Where'd you put the hostages boys?"

Kieran twitched excitedly. Norm carefully stepped on his toes. It was more than lucky, and they didn't want to screw it up.

"To storeroom six, Colonel Cole," the soldier replied. "Just behind those greenhouses."

"Thank you," Wendy said, with a dip of head and turned.

"Don't forget to grab your guns at the door," Colonel Cole called after them.

The three stiffly walked from the room, heading to the exit.

"That was incredibly lucky," Norm commented.

"Shush," Wendy said, her eyes darting from side to side. At the exit the three of them pull on Exo-masks and took guns, stepping through the air lock.

The three of them sucked in filtered air. "Wow," Kieran said, "You can really notice the difference ... these masks are so much more ... strong, than inside."

"The plan worked, the air's running out," Norm said, a smile on his face.

They set off across the tarmac. It took a good few minutes, but eventually they got to the house-sized building. Two guards stood to attention. They grunted briefly and handed over passkeys before rushing off, clearly eager to be done with the boring task of standing outside a locked door in the blazing sun.

When the men were far away, Wendy knocked on the metal door. "Hello?"

"Kaltxì?" Norm called after a few seconds of silence. Wendy pressed her ear to the door.

"Keep on the lookout," she said, swiping the key card. The door clicked and she squeezed inside.

It was incredibly hot and dark, and smelled. Hurriedly placing the gun next to the door, Wendy squinted, trying to see.

Something hard came out of the darkness, and her eyes watered at it made contact with her head. She dropped to the floor. One hand held down her shoulder blades, the other grabbing her hair and yanking up her head, exposing her throat.

"_We are friends,"_ Wendy frantically whispered in Na'vi.

The hands stopped pulling her head back.

"Wenti?"

A smattering of bioluminescent dots light up and the hands released her. Wendy turned, seeing Riyah's face looming in the darkness. _"There is two of she now,"_ Riyah whispered over her shoulder.

There was a scuffling sound in the darkness. A moment later, Hnene had crawled over. With a cry she embraced Wendy, picking her up like a doll. By then Hnene dropped her, breathing heavily.

"I have water," Wendy said, reaching for her canteen. Hnene took it eagerly, gulping, passing it to Riyah, who gulped. The canteen was quickly emptied. "There's more," Wendy assured them. "But where are the children?"

"Children ..." Hnene's eyes widened, and she grabbed Wendy pulling her through the blackness. Wendy almost tripped. She went to her knees, reaching out.

Hot skin, taut skin ... her skin? Her hands ran over, finding her Avatar's firm baby bump.

Then it punched her hands. Wendy screamed softly, clutching the stomach harder. "Kempe? What?" she demanded, turning blindly to the dots of Hnene's face.

"She is dying," Hnene said sadly.

Wendy choked. "What can I ... there must be something! What would the Na'vi do? If a woman was dead, and her child unborn?" She spoke in Na'vi.

Two glowing faces turned to each other. Hnene spoke hesitantly. "If the mate was alive, he would make Tsahaylu. He would have two bodies, but move into his mate's to give birth. And if he is dead also, under only special reasons, the Tsahìk or Olo'eyktan could do this also. But Wendy," Hnene placed a dark hand on top of Wendy's. "Nobody is here."

The stomach writhed under Wendy's fingers and Hnene withdrew. "No," Wendy said, pressing her hands down, "Baby. My baby." She gazed into the embryonic darkness, feeling adrift. The heat was making sweat roll down her back. She sniffed, tears joining the sweat on her cheeks to roll fat and salty down her neck.

She turned to Hnene. "You do it. Make Tsahaylu, I don't care. Please –"

"I cannot," Hnene said firmly, shaking her head, "It is against Eywa, no, I cannot –"

"Against Eywa? To let her die? Please, I will save your daughter, please, save mine –" Wendy grabbed Hnene's hand, rubbing her hands over it and shaking desperately, "For me, save my baby, you _can_ do it."

"I cannot, I must not. That I cannot do. It is wrong, can you not see! Please, do not ask me for this –"

"My daughter, for yours –"

Riyah spoke about their pleading, "Help others to help yourself, Sister Hnene."

The three grew silent.

"Please," Wendy whispered.

Hnene took a deep breath. "It is very wrong."

"_Please."_

A longer pause in which Hnene's breathing was quick and audible. "I will do it," she said. She sounded terrified.

She crouched beside Wendy's Avatar body. Her hand held Wendy's tiny human hand. She squeezed as she made Tsahaylu. She fell limp, laying down and moaning in fear.

Slowly, Wendy's body rose to a sitting position.

"I will not open the eyes," Hnene said. Wendy's avatar moved clumsily to a squat. Hnene began to huff in pain, sobbing.

A stream of light penetrated as the door opened. "Jesus!" It was Kieran. "What the –"

"Shut up and close the door!" Wendy cried. "She's helping! Keep guard!"

"What's happening?"

"She's giving birth for me you dimwit. Get out!" Wendy yelled angrily, holding Hnene's dry hand, rubbing her Avatar's back. The darkness returned as Kieran left. Her eyes burned and she could see nothing. All she could hear was the Avatar's frenzied breathing, Hnene's moans of pain and Riyah's crooning. All she could feel was her hand numb from Hnene squeezing, and the twisted muscles of her Avatar.

"The body has been working while you were gone," Hnene mumbled. "This will not take a long time –" She then screamed, stuffing a fist into her mouth to drown the sound.

Despite that, it felt like a trip between Earth and Pandora. There was a slithering sound and then a high pitched coughing. Then something damp was placed on the Avatar's belly as it weakly lay back down.

Wendy tugged her hands from Hnene and reached out. The same size as a human baby, lusciously hot skin. Wet hair ran down its back. Tracing the face with her fingers, a tiny pair of lips latched on, sucking.

Wendy cried. Ignoring her uniform she lifted the baby into her arms. Its face was brightly lit. Its eyes were wide open.

Mother and daughter gazed at each other.

Hnene had broken the bond, and passed Wendy's queue. "Make the bond. Even if you are not awake, it will not matter."

Wendy looked up. "How do I braid it?"

"Any way," Hnene replied. "But quickly."

Wendy quickly did the plait her own mother had for many years given her, causing extreme embarrassment at school. But now, the method was a comfort. She made the bond, watched her baby's eyes grow round with wonder.

She shakily got to her feet, taking her baby with her as she went to the door. She knocked softly.

Kieran appeared. His eyes were worried, but seeing her he looked even more so. She caught his eyes and glanced down. His eyes followed hers. He sounded winded.

"Is that...?"

"Yes." Her face felt as if it were going to split. "I need the water and the passkeys."

He nodded, passing them over. "I'll keep the door open?"

"That would be good," she said softly, turning and viewing the store for the first time.

She almost preferred the terrifying, intimate dark.

Specimen jars lined a shelf. In three at the end of the row, there was no preserving solution, but that didn't make her feel any more sickened by the sight of the tiny Na'vi baby encased in each one.

She ran forward, her daughter clutched to her chest. Hnene and Riyah were already wailing softly, hands slapping the glass.

The one at the end had a smear of red.

Luckily she had experience with these sort of jars. She'd done six months 'internship' at a museum. The memory of decanting a mammoth foetus, deformed with two trunks still haunted her.

She leaned forward. A tiny hole had been drilled near the top of each one, for air?

"Can you take her?" she said, holding her baby out to Hnene. Hnene nodded and swiftly took the blue child. Wendy wrapped her arms around the first jar, heaving it off the shelf. She pressed the passkey into the groove on the lid. There was a sucking noise and a hiss. Then, using both hands she turned the giant screw-top lid. "Just like strawberry jelly," she told herself. "And peanut butter."

The lid came off. She reached in, pulling out the male baby. It was pale, but very warm from the heat of the room. She put her palm on the chest. Still breathing. The only wound she could see was a deep cut across the boy's cheek bone. It seemed to have bled a lot, but was crusted over now. Wendy knelt, opening the canteen and pouring a tiny bit of water into the lid. She then put the lid to the baby's lids and trickled it in.

The eyes cracked opened and he let out an ear-splitting cry. "Shh!" Wendy said desperately. She began to trickle more water, which the little boy, Tomas, drank eagerly. After opening all three lids, she passed Tomas to Riyah and moved to the next jar. Within ten minutes Riyah and Hnene had a baby in each arm as Wendy trickled water into each of their mouths. The babies were fidgeting, painfully uncomfortable with dehydration. Once the two canteens had run out, Hnene tried to breast feed. After a few suckles, the babies pulled back, groaning unhappily. Hnene's milk had dried up.

Wendy went to the door. "We have to get them out."

Norm was nodding, looking out at the tarmac. It was late afternoon. "It was very busy while you were, um, giving birth – all these soldiers rushing about - no doubt Jake's doing. They've gone now. It's very quiet," he noted.

Wendy looked out. "Damn, almost wish we'd left a Samson out here for ourselves. There's nothing we can smuggle them onto."

They looked out at the empty tarmac, which only had a couple of buggies and the Valkyrie.

"How good are you at flying?" Norm asked.

"Really good," Kieran said proudly.

"He is," Wendy confirmed. "Pity we've got nothing _to_ fly."

Norm glanced at Kieran. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking B1?"

Kieran grinned. "I think I am B2."

Wendy was glancing between the two of them. "What are you guys thinking? And why are you talking about a band?"

Norm chuckled, "Wasn't a band. But ... I _was_ thinking, why don't we fly _that_." He pointed_._

"I don't see anything. Is it behind the Valkyrie?"

Norm rolled his eyes. "_The_ Valkyrie, Wendy."

Her jaw dropped. "No. _No_. No-no-no."

"Yes-yes-yes!" Kieran half-sung.

"No."

"Yes."

"We'll die."

"_I_ can fly it."

"You'll kill us all. It's a _spaceship. _It's not a toy!" Wendy crossed her arms.

"You have a better idea, Wendy?"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, it involves us _not _dying."

"How would you do that?" Norm said snidely.

"I don't know!" Wendy glared at the Valkyrie. "Okay, fine, you say we take the Valkyrie, risking certain crashing and death. How would _you_ get them –" she jerked her thumb at the door of the storeroom, "on board without all of us getting shot?"

Norm bit his lip, narrowing his eyes across the tarmac.

* * *

On the beach beside the Nest, a group of the Omaticaya were preparing the funeral rites for their Tsahìk. Sitting on the sand making tìhawnu tirea , which were talismans made from plants and flowers that held specific sacred qualities, a group of children watched as some women carefully bathed Mo'at's body in the lake.

A girl sniffed over the blue flowers she was stringing together.

"Do not be sad," Ote'lo told her. "Tsahìk Mo'at was ready to leave. And honoured Neytiri will be a good Tsahìk. She bring my sister back from the place where the heart does not speak."

The girl rapidly wiped her eyes and looked down her nose at Ote'lo. "My cousins Eantsyal, Nìwin and Anyie have been dead longer. Where are their tìhawnu tirea? Where is Tsahìk Neytiri to guide them to Eywa? I am not sad, little skxawng! I am angry!"

Ote'lo shrank back, gripping his weaving. "Eywa be with their souls. Forgive me."

The girl ground her teeth and crushed a white flower in her hand. "I do not like this. There are enemy to fight, and here we are, weaving flowers! Next season I am to be hunter; but not if I sit on my txim all day. I can carry knife, throw spear and shoot arrows. Don't you," she turned to Ote'lo, glaring at him, daring at him to protest, "wish to be out there, helping olo'eyktan Jake?"

Ote'lo perked up. "Olo'eyktan Jake is very brave! I would fight for him!"

The girl furrowed her brows. "You're very small," she said slowly. She pushed the flowers off her lap and stood. "Come with me, if you want help."

Ote'lo jumped excitedly to his feet. The girl sped across the sand, and he had to jog to keep up. "What's happening? What's your name? What are we going to do?"

"Hush!" The girl said. "I am Tayena. I have plan. There is Tawtute kunsìp on the way. We must hurry." She whistled high. Within a few moments four fa'li wandered up to them. Tayena pushed Ote'lo onto one and climbed up behind him, making the bond as she climbed. She urged it to a gallop.

Just as Ote'lo was beginning to squirm with boredom, he saw the Samson she'd mentioned up ahead. In the battle, it had been abandoned. Tayena told him to stay put, swinging herself up inside. With a yell of delight she came out with her hands full. She dumped her bounty next to the pa'li.

Ote'lo slipped off and frowned at the pile. "Tawtute body coverings?"

"Put them on. Hurry."

"Why?" Ote'lo's nose wrinkled.

"Because we need to look like Sawtute if we're going to sneak into their village."

Ote'lo's frown deepened, then his eyes went wide. He picked up an item and frowned at it. "What is this?"

It was two circular, shallow cups held together by string. Tayena took it from him and tried it on her head. "I don't know. I never saw it. It doesn't fit either." She threw it away, picking up a pair of trousers.

Ote'lo had already tried to get into his. He'd managed to get his legs in, unfortunately only into a single hole. He hobbled, almost fell over and managed to pull the leg out and put it into the other leg. He puzzled over the button but soon enough was wearing pants. The two children looked at each other, giggling. They pulled on long sleeved shirts to hide their cerulean skin, and found boots.

"These hurt," Ote'lo complained.

"Shh," growled Tayena. "All real Sawtute wear feet covers. We must too." She reached down and picked up a hat. She went to Ote'lo, and shoved his hair and queue into the hat and bringing it down on his head. "All boy Sawtute have no hair."

Ote'lo looked resentfully at her. "Sawtute are ugly," he mumbled.

Tayena ignored him, picking up two exo-masks and laying them on the pa'li's back. Then she scanned the nearby plants and purposely walked to a tuber. She pulled it from the earth and began to squeeze it. As she did so, a rich walnut coloured liquid seeped out.

"Come here," she said, rolling up her sleeves. Ote'lo approached. Swiping her fingers into the brown, she told him to stand still and began to rub it over his face, neck and hands. She tucked the tips of his ears into his hat to hide their shape. Then she made him paint her too. Soon, two nut-brown Na'vi children stood staring at each other. "Hopefully we don't get too close," she said. "If they see our faces up close, we will be in trouble. We will wear their war masks." She licked her hands to get rid of the left over syrup. "Let's go."

* * *

After a short strategy session, the Omaticaya war force had decided that the dozers had to be put somewhere they couldn't leave. A hole or a wall, as one warrior had put it.

This presented an unsolvable problem. The wall would need to be ridiculously tall and strong, and the Omaticaya weren't exactly known for their wall building abilities. Digging a hole was pretty much the same issue. More to the point, this particular part of the forest was very dense with wildlife. Athough Kelutral had fallen, it still had great influence over the nearby land and a dozer sitting in the way would disturb the peace.

Na'vi are known for their deep respect for nature. It was a sign of their desperation and resolve to defeat their enemy that they were willing to desecrate in order to destroy. Already, Samsons were on their way in order to help as per Jake's request via the comm.-link embedded in his necklace

Five. Jake counted the flying machines with concern, hoping, praying to Eywa that it would be enough lift. Steel cables were used to attach the Samsons to one of the dozers. As one, the Samsons began to rise.

The dozer sat stubbornly on the ground.

Then there was a creaking sound. Jake ran to the side of the dozer, falling to his knees. Squinting, he saw a tiny gap between the ground and the dozer.

He stood up with a whoop and waved his arms up at the pilots. Lifting it about a foot off the ground, the Samsons shifted westwards. There was a ravine not far away, and wide enough to dump the two dozers and two slash-cutters, if only the engines of the Samsons could last that long. It would take hundreds of years, perhaps, for the metal to rust away, and the Na'vi could only hope it would not be so fast as to harm the plants and animals of the waterway. In the meantime, it would be a gruesome memento to human and Na'vi alike about what happened when Eywa was threatened. It would, however, be out of sight, which would be a relief.

It was long, laborious work. Constantly the Samsons would have to rise up over trees, causing their rotors to scream. Jake was constantly aware of the hour, the angle of light, the lengthening shadows.

How much longer did he have to save the hostages?

More importantly, how could he do it?

* * *

A young hunter was collecting shellfish at dusk. As he neared the end of the cove, he came across his clan's Tsahìk, seated waist-deep in a rock-pool. At the sound of his approach, the elderly man opened his eyes.

"Young one," he smiled. "How long since you have spoken with Eywa?"

The young hunter looked down in shame, placing his pickings down and carefully slipped into the glowing pool. Pinkish purple tendrils reached up from the deep. The pool appeared shallow, but the hunter knew, as did all his clan, that it was deeper than it was wide, which was saying something. Sitting on a ledge at the side, the hunter met his Tsahìk's eyes as he made the bond.

The Tsahìk laughed softly. "Your brother told me you keep worrying about that racing star that is not a star. Even now you ask Eywa."

The boy looked mildly annoyed. "He was not supposed to say to anyone."

The Tsahìk reached out a wet, wrinkled hand and patted the boy's shoulder. "You've been fishing all day. You missed all the fun, you know. Our neighbours, the Ikran clan, sent heralds at midday. They told us quite the story. About tiny people from the sky, and how Toruk Makto has returned."

The young hunter choked. "Why does everything interesting happen while I am not there! You are tricking me."

"Not a trick," Tsahìk replied, stroking a tendril, causing it to glow. Light danced upon his withered face. "Although I wonder, as you do, young Ateyo. Why did Toruk Makto not call on us to help him fight? I believe it is because our clan has no ikran; and he thinks we cannot travel fast."

The young hunter clenched his fists. "I will call my brothers and we shall ride out at sunrise to help them fight. We will show Toruk Makto that it is not only ikran that must be feared."

The Tsahìk laughed. "Ateyo. This fight is long finished; a whole year ago."

The young hunter looked crest fallen. He stared out at the horizon, where the first stars were appearing over the sea. Suddenly he splashed, sitting up straight. "Tsahìk – do you see that? Beside the ikran star."

The old man squinted at the horizon. A moving star was climbing the sky much faster than its compatriots. "Ah, yes, I do."

The two stared at it for a while. Then the Tsahìk spoke. "One thing the Ikran Clan did mention. These tiny Sky People ... they don't ride ikran. They ride _stars. _Giant, burning stars. That is why they had to be fought, because they threatened to burn the Omaticaya's Hometree. And they did."

The young hunter frowned. "But if they were defeated a year ago, Tsahìk, why did _this_ star of theirs appear only a season ago?"

The Tsahìk smiled. "_That_ is what _I_ asked the Ikran Clan scout." He stood up, shimmering and wet. "Listen to the waves, hunter Ateyo. Do they not sound like war drums to you? I do not know everything, but I do know that something is happening, and Eywa is ... very interesting to pray to these days. Talk to her some more. If you're not back to Kelutral by morning, I will tell your father you have gone to become a warrior."

He skipped off into the dark, taking Ateyo's catch with him. Ateyo leaned back into the water, focusing on the connection with Eywa. He thought of the star.

_I'd love to see that._

Ateyo flipped in the water, inhaling a mouthful of brine. Spitting it out he looked around. He was alone.

_Help us._

Ateyo looked down at his glowing reflection in the shifting water, the tendrils swaying back and forth. He was alone. It was just him and Eywa. And it hadn't been him who'd spoken.

* * *

**Author's Note: **While writing this chapter I discovered in a very personal manner that death is cruel. There are rarely last words, let alone good ones. This chapter is dedicated to Allistair. We all miss you very much - please count these 10, 803 words as my last ones to you and know that in pain there is hope, in desperation there is fight. Rest in peace.


	14. Off To War

**Chapter Thirteen – ****Off To War**

Click. No updates.

Click. Still blank.

Frowning, checking the connection. Top notch. Why nothing?

Lee glanced around bustling RDA lab. Time was slowing. Click. Click.

No updates!

He slapped his hand down on the desk. Around him, assistants looked up. Hunching his shoulders, Lee glared at the screen.

SLU-INT-61 to SLU-EX-06

STATUS REPORT REQUEST NO 12. PLEASE RESPOND. SLU-EX-06 WAS DUE FOR RDA-LOC-05 DOCK YESTERDAY. ANY FURTHER DELAY WILL BE CONSIDERED A BREACH OF CONTRACT.

Lee sent the message with vindictive glee. In the centre of the lab there was a clunking, a whir. Lab assistants jumped up, shooting him confused looks.

The SLU died back to its ever-present hum. Lee slumped, twisting his chair and giving it a baleful stare. How was he supposed to give inside information when there was no information inside? The ISV orbiting Pandora was silent. With every message costing money, the RDA was getting annoyed with Lee and the other lab assistants; as if it were somehow their fault their messages were pinging into what seemed to be a void. The lab had received no distress signals, none of the usual scheduled updates. Perhaps something had gone seriously wrong. Sun-storm, maybe.

Lee could feel himself sweating. All he wanted was a single update. A status report. A full explanation. He could feel something must be happening, some exciting story, and waiting had never been his strong point. He didn't want to jump every time he clicked, every time it stuttered on the load as if there was something big coming. He wanted to see something when he looked up. Something. "_Anything."_

"Say what?"

Lee blinked, rubbed his eyes at the assistant. "Nothing," he said. He glanced at his screen, sighing, "nothing."

"We got a reply."

"What!" He snatched the printout from her hand.

SLU-EX-06 to SLU-INT-61

STATUS REPORT. SLU-EX-06 HAS DOCKED AT RDA-LOC-05. CRYOBAY LEVEL 01 AND O2 OF 3 CRYOBAYS DISEMBARKED. AVTR-145AJ20,AVTR-145TK27, AVTR-349WS31 UNLOADED. CARGO SEC-01 TO SEC-12 UNLOADED. VALKYRIE 0349-45 UNDOCKED.

"Looks like everything's in order," the assistant said.

Lee nodded, looking down at the print out, his breath coming in disordered gulps. The assistant walked off. Still he stared at the words. Only a few lines instead of a full page report?

"Something's up."

Lee jumped. Next to him, a co-worker gave him a crooked grin. "You've been acting weird for the past two weeks, ever since you came back from leave."

"Dill, I don't know what you're talking about."

"You check your comms obsessively," Dill said, slinging himself over the back of his chair, picking his teeth. "Admit it. You got whipped in the city. What she look like?" One brow quirked. "He?"

Lee blinked. "There's nobody."

"Oh, sure, sure," Dill said, swinging around with a wink.

Lee hesitated a second, then blurted. "It's a she."

He stared at his knee, confused as to why he'd even said anything. As Dill swung back around, smirking, Lee came to a conclusion: this was a great alibi.

"Yes," Lee said, more firmly. "I met her in the city."

"Name?"

"Mel."

Lee's eyes slid over Dill's shoulder.

"She hot?"

"Yeah. She has a body, y'know."

Dill looked at him blankly.

"I mean, a _great_ body."

Dill grinned.

Lee would later be left to ponder the paradox of him using his secret contact as his alibi.

* * *

Standing ankle deep in the Pandoran sea, coral biting into the soles of his feet, the young hunter Ateyo glanced at the sky. He sung an old war song softly, "_Off we go to war! Yet stranger words I understand, Were said when I was a child, Believing everything but dreams were false!"_ The Sky People's star was racing to the horizon. His clan brothers were pulling themselves from deeper waters, grumbling.

Standing beside Ateyo, his elder brother crossed his arms. "Brother, you better start explaining yourself."

Ateyo kept his eyes on the horizon. "We have all heard the story of the Omaticaya, and how they fought the stars." The grumbling warriors grew quiet. Ateyo glanced back at them, unable to hold eye contact with the glinting irises in the dark. He was not a natural leader, like his brother. Licking his lips, his eyes went back to the horizon. "Eywa has spoken to me."

All murmuring ceased.

"Excuse me?" the strongest swimmer splashed forward, his voice low. "Eywa has called to _you?"_ he laughed.

Ateyo felt his face tighten. "Tsahìk believes me."

"Old Seril is full of ideas," Ateyo's brother said.

"Seril is Tsahìk for a reason," Ateyo snapped.

"That does not mean you follow him blindly."

"I am not following Seril alone. It is Eywa who calls me most of all! It is Eywa who calls all of us, through me!"

His brother grabbed Ateyo's bicep, pulling the young hunter around to look him in the eye. "You child!" he growled, "You claim that Eywa has stronger confidence in_ you_ than the Tsahìk?" He leaned close. "_What_ has gotten into you?"

Ateyo jerked his arm away. "Stranger words, I understand, we said when we were children."

His eyes went back to the horizon. Not a fifteen minute swim away, his clan's home rose from the water, glowing in the pre-dawn darkness. Ancient corals, long dead formed the island, culminating in the living skeletal form of their Hometree. The leeside faced them, the white beach shining.

Between the outcrop that the war party stood on and the shore, glowing shapes slipped through the dark waves. Ateyo crouched, splashing his hands in the water.

Warriors stepped forward. "What are you doing!"

Ateyo crawled away, splashing. His feet curled; tiny barbs from the coral biting into him. His blood disappearing, salty like sea water. But it would brings the beasts.

A black shape rolled through the water nearby. Another bopped bobbed up, lowing.

Ateyo stood up. "We go to our cousins on the coast, the Cave Clans, and we ride to Toruk Makto and aid him."

Warriors laughed. The strongest swimmer, Txur stamped his feet, throwing up water and declared, "Little hunter Ateyo! Collecting clams all day! Did you not hear? The fight is long finished." He began to turn away.

"Look to the sky, brothers and sisters," Ateyo said. His voice echoed over the dark water. "Look, just to the right of Kelutral's tallest branch. That is the star. It moves with a speed no other star in the sky has. It is a Sky Person's beast! They have returned."

Confused heads turned. There was mutterings; some were slipping back into the water, angry.

But then Ateyo's brother gave a loud yell. He turned to the young hunter with wide eyes. "Ateyo ... what did Eywa say?"

* * *

_Two Days Later..._

Once the old Hometree had been protected, Jake bid all of the warriors to hurry back to the Nest to recuperate. Without his ikran, Atan he would ride a pa'li to Hell's Gate. He was increasingly aware that he had mere hours to get Tomas, Norm and all the others out of Hell's Gate, so that when the Omaticaya stormed the place nobody he cared for would get hurt.

Neytiri wanted to go with him. As other warriors were lifting off into the sky Neytiri placed her hands on Jake's elbows.

Without her having to ask, Jake said, "We have until dawn to save them. While I ride, I will speak with Norm and find out if he has been able to get them water, and how he thinks we should save them." Jake focused on her eyes. "You need rest." He reached up, stroking fingers on her cheek. "All the warriors need rest. Take them back to the Nest, make them sleep. Maybe let Ghost visit her babies. Then fly as fast as you can to Hell's Gate."

"Faster if I fly there direct."

Jake nodded, "But you've barely slept since yesterday, I know, and same goes for all our other warriors. I wouldn't be a good olo'eyktan if I let you all fly into battle asleep on your ikran."

Neytiri pulled back. "You, also, have slept little."

"It can't be helped. I have to ride pa'li and you know that takes longer."

Her tail lashed. Without warning she turned, hopping up onto Ghost. The pale ikran stretched out its neck and shook its head angrily. Neytiri patted her neck, making soothing noises. Her eyes caught Jake's. She dipped her head, and with a great flap Ghost pulled into the sky.

Jake turned to the pa'li, stroking its nose. "Sleep well last night? You've got a long trip ahead of you." He climbed on and the two crashed away through the underbrush.

As he rode, Jake pressed his fingers to the neckband that allowed him to contact the others and pushed a finger against the button for Norm. As it crackled once, something it had never done, Jake frowned. "Norm?" The crackle dimmed to a low pitched white noise. "Norm!"

Jake dropped his hand, urging the pa'li forward. He briefly considered contacting Neytiri, but knew that if it was a problem with his radio, then that wouldn't work and if it was a problem with Norm's, then that would just cause Neytiri undue stress. He knew her well enough that she'd go straight to Hell's Gate if she had just one more reason.

Jake glanced at the sky. It was late in the afternoon and as usual completely clear. A flock of forest banshees screeched past.

He'd heard the old Earth myth that animals knew long before calamity fell.

What did the forest banshees know?

* * *

Ote'lo sat up as Tayena urged the direhorse to a halt. His head titled back, taking in the great fence that had appeared before them. Ote'lo dismounted and clasped his hands together, shooting a nervous look at the fence. He knew from bedtime stories that touching that fence would set your arm on fire without flames. "Teyena ... How do we get through?"

The girl hissed and grabbed his hand. "You really are a little one," she snapped. "Did your mother never let you outside of Hometree?"

Ote'lo shook his head.

"Well," Tayena said, crouching and pushing aside a fern. "_Some_ of us liked to play around here. You ever played 'I'm braver than someone who'?"

Ote'lo shook his head again.

"You have to say you're braver than someone and then prove it. We proved it by get close to the Sawtute. Very close."

She made a pleased sound and pulled aside a fern to reveal a hole. "We had to dig a bit, but most of it is a cave," she said proudly.

Ote'lo frowned at the hole. "It goes under?"

"Just get in," she told him. Taking sharp breaths, Ote'lo crawled headfirst into the dirt. It quickly went dark. There was grunting behind him as Tayena squeezed herself in. Within a few shuffles the dirt was replaced by cool stone which was slightly damp to the touch. Ote'lo stopped, choking.

"Hurry up!" Teyena growled.

Ote'lo shook his head. "I –I – c-can't," he stuttered.

A hand reached up the leg of his trousers, pinched his tail and he yelped forward. "I'll keep doing it!" she warned.

Stone was brushing his shoulders, it was that tight. His breath came in short, earthy gasps. "I can't, I can't," he said.

There was a pause, then, Teyena said softly, tenderly, "You'll die, we'll both die if you don't move forward."

It was the motivation he needed.

The two young Na'vi crawled out into Hell's Gate and crouched behind a large container, peering around it. A few squat buildings were yards away, and curving behind and around them the flat black tarmac of the runway. Sniffing the air, Teyena nodded and they stood, trying to look casual as they walked towards the squat buildings. "Swing your hands," Ote'lo said, "Norm-man always did that."

They reached the buildings. Ote'lo hissed as he laid his hand from the corrugated iron – it was searing hot. He looked down at his red palm. They edged around the storehouse. The tarmac shimmered with heat.

"Good thing we wore foot coverings," Teyena whispered. She poked her head around the corner and gasped. Ote'lo crouched and looked around.

Beside the Valkyrie was a group of human soldiers who were leaping upon what looked like their own. And slumped on the ground, with their hands and feet tied, the hostages squirmed on the hot tarmac as it burnt their skin.

Ote'lo jumped forward. He felt Teyena's hands scratching his back as she tried to stop him. The humans didn't notice him.

Ote'lo recognised the voice of one of the humans roaring, throwing his arms around his assailant. "Norm," he muttered, eyes wide.

A solider shattered the butt of his gun against the scientist's head, felling him. Ote'lo gave a cry of horror.

Time slowed. As one, the soldiers and the fighters all turned and took in the two beings beside the store house. At distance, they looked human enough – if humans were normally that lithe, that poised and in Teyena's case, almost seven feet tall.

Ote'lo heard his sister Hnene moan in anger. His hand twitched forward, and if he could touch her. His feet carried him forward.

Norm was on his knees along with the rest of them. Ote'lo took in the human's altered features, the shorter hair. He figured that the bad humans must have done it to Norm – after all, to a Na'vi person, hair was sacred. Norm would not remove his, even in human form, lightly. Would he?

Teyena was yelling behind him, her boots slapping the tarmac, telling him to stop. She managed to over take him, pushing him to the side, turning to the humans.

Silence is danger. Hnene's mate had told Ote'lo that when he was tiny. Before Ngera had been shot in the face at the school in an era that felt so long ago to Ote'lo.

"_You must crouch like so," Ngera said. Ote'lo mimicked the older Na'vi, whose eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled._

_Ngera took Ote'lo hand, told him to listen to the forest. They crouched until their legs ached, and the sounds of the forest grew._

_Then the growl of a hunter. The whole forest went silent instantly, and still. Ote'lo opened his eyes to see a palu'lukan prowling past._

"_Silence is danger," Ngera said once the hunter was gone. "Never fear what people say 'evi. Fear what they don't. Trust me when I say that the day adults don't say something, then something terrible has happened."_

_On the day Ngera had died, Hnene had taken her vow of silence._

Now, Ote'lo's ears were empty. He could hear nothing, although his ear drums ached like after the loud music of harvest festivals. The faces of the hostages twisted, and they were yelling silently as the soldiers tightened their grip on their guns.

Ote'lo felt droplets roll down his cheek, and touched his wet skin. He looked down at his hands, finding not tears but blood.

He looked to the side in bewilderment seeing Teyena land on her knees. Her mouth was moving but no sound came out.

Ote'lo turned around to see the man who had shot her. He was muscular, wearing a white shirt that blazed in the sunlight. He lowered his weapon, sauntering forward the last few steps, grabbing Teyena's shoulder and pulling her around. He whipped off her hat, revealing her pointed ears. Her queue tumbled down her back.

The man looked over her at Norm and the others. He said something, but again Ote'lo heard nothing. Then with one last word, the man lifted the gun and pressed it to her forehead.

Ote'lo screamed as blood, brain, hair and bone exploded silently. There was no sound at all.

* * *

Night had fallen long ago. Jake had reached a part of the forest filled with vine-covered stone and giant boulders. He was too far away, but luckily the hard ground allowed the pa'li to speed up the pace. The forest passed in streaks of light on either side of them.

Jakes eyes were heavy. He didn't know if he should sleep on the pa'li while bonded and riding, worried that the animal would not take the most direct route.

A small cliff appeared beside him, the rock sparkling slightly in the bioluminescence. Jake closed his eyes briefly.

He jerked awake and could not tell what time it was. The cliff was still beside him, but that meant nothing since Jake knew there were miles of these in the Pandoran jungle.

It was very dark.

The pa'li suddenly halted and Jake nearly flew over its head. As it was he gripped onto its antennae and looked around in confusion.

It was too dark.

Leaves were rustling but Jake could hear no creatures – no chuckle of the viperwolves, no prolemuris squeaks, no clicks or clacks or humming from all the various small animals and planimals and whistling plants of the forest. He turned to eye the war bonnet fern. He _could _hear crashing and something thudding. The sound was becoming more defined, coming closer, he realised.

Out of the bush a viperwolf burst, ignoring Jake and running parallel to the cliff as fast as it could. The pa'li pawed the ground, snorting.

The sounds of activity were rushing closer. Jake made the pa'li approach the bushes, and it walked unwillingly, snorting.

Crashing through the warbonnet fern emerged a huge creature. Jake could barely take in its size – much bigger than an ikran, almost as big as a toruk before the pa'li was swept out from under him. The pa'li screamed as the shadowy form lifted it high into the air, rumbling. A second paw – or claw, or tentacle, or wing reached for Jake, hitting him with the force of a tree trunk and winding him. Jake saw stars as he was slammed against the cliff face, and he was positive he had several broken ribs.

The beast jerked through the ferns in agitation, crushing Jake against the stone and snuffling and growling. In the darkness Jake couldn't be sure but it seemed to move without purpose, with confusion. Its shape rippled, at one point smooth skinned which reflected light as if it were wet, the next spikes swelling from its spine.

He crawled to his feet, deciding it would be best to just edge around it – whatever it was and make his escape. He had plenty of time to be brave later. He was pushing apart the ferns, glancing back at the snuffling monster, only to come face to face with eyes, eyes that actually _glowed_. Jake didn't count them but there were far too many, spread out so that Jake couldn't tell what was its head.

The beast growled and then exhaled hot, putrid breath all over Jake's head and shoulders. He coughed at the smell. It was distinctly fishy.

At least six glowing eyes swivelled to look at him.

"Aw, shit," Jake breathed.

The monster lunged forward and the world went completely dark.

* * *

At the Nest, the Omaticaya gathered. In the late afternoon, Neytiri found herself on the shore, leading the grieving through the funeral rites for the three dead children who had been shot by the RDA. Taking an atokirina for each, she crouched and rested the sacred seed upon the smooth cyan cheeks.

She stood up stiffly, raising her arms in prayer. They felt as if attached to the floor by ropes, and shook as she held them up. She wanted desperately to cry, to ride out on Ghost to Hell's Gate. Her son could be in a grave.

She drifted to the fireplaces on the cliffs on the northern side of the lake of the Nest. She chewed, choked. She curled up under a fern and dug her fingers into the damp earth, asking Eywa to help her sleep. She clenched the dirt, promising to kill her son's kidnappers.

* * *

The sea was a still grey slate when the sun arose. The thunderous crashing of the beasts over the coral platform that sat inches under the surface of the sea had long ago turned to a dull roar in Ateyo's ears.

It seemed as if the sun jumped into the sky. Almost instantly, the sea changed from the colour of smoke to a layer of glass over a kaleidoscope of coral.

Straight ahead lay the coast. The sight made Ateyo lose concentration. Being only a real hunter for a season, he had not yet made this journey before. He could not understand the solid swathes of green over the walls of stone that rose terraced from the sea. Under him, the beast twisted and Ateyo snapped his eyes back to the comforting sight of coral.

"Halt!"

Ateyo looked up, fighting to bring his beast to a halt. His clan brothers and sisters stopped easily, and Ateyo felt his cheeks burn as he and two others fought to bring their beasts under control. Eventually becoming still, Ateyo managed to look over the Cave Clan riders who had ventured out across the sea to meet the war party.

"Brothers and sisters," Ateyo's brother called out awkwardly. "I am Kitani."

The Cave Clan rider at the front of the small group urged his beast forward a few steps. "Your Tsahìk is Seril who walks on water?"

Ateyo glanced at his brother, who shrugged. Kitani faced the scout again, "We all walk on water," he said ironically, his eyes dropping to the surface of the water, lapping softly over the coral for miles on all sides. He narrowed his eyes at the scouts. "Seril is not with us."

The scout was frowning. "Why have you brought a war party, Kitani of the water walkers? Do you wish to fight us?"

Kitani looked to Ateyo. "No. It seems Eywa has called for our help on behalf of the Omaticaya."

The scout's frown deepened and he shared looks with his comrades. "The tree-dwellers?"

The scout's mate, perched on the highest point of the spine of his beast reached out and touched his shoulder. "Liraya wasn't lying," she said. "If the water-walkers have heard the same thing."

The scout gently pushed his mate back and faced the war-party. "We had a young hunter say she spoke to Eywa. She ran away when our Tsahìk called her a liar. This has happened in your clan as well?"

Kitani bowed his head. "Yes. My brother is a young hunter also, but he convinced Seril that Eywa has indeed found a voice."

The scout lifted a hand to cover his eyes from the rising sun. "Then you better come with us. If this is true ... then we haven't much time. I suppose you came here so that we would take you to the Omaticaya."

"Yes."

The scout nodded and turned. It did not take long to reach the shore, even though the coral eventually dropped away and Ateyo shivered in the cold water. "Hold your breath and follow," the scout said, his shoulders bobbing above the water, his beast already submerged but for the arch of its spine, with his mate laying flat against it.

Ateyo took a deep breath, opening his eyes wide as about fifty beasts and the hundred-odd riders plunged down. The scouts of the Cave Clan easily melded themselves along the spine of their beasts, which turned into dark shapes that sliced through the blue like black blades. Ateyo pressed his cheek to his own beast's neck, flattening his ears to keep out the water and letting the beast use its own luminous eyes to follow their guides to a cliff face and down, down, fighting the pounding tide. They came to the rim of a cavernous black hole: a cave. Not any cave, but an entrance to the Cave Clan's home.

The cave curved rapidly upwards, a hole pounded through rock by millions of years of water. Soon light filtered down, and the ache around Ateyo's head loosened. All pressure released as he burst through the surface.

He could hear a collective inhalation from the war-party, but it wasn't just because they'd had to hold their breath for much longer than any of them were used to.

If he didn't know better, Ateyo would have thought it was night time. All above and around was darkness dotted by countless spots of light. There was far off singing, a morning prayer by the invisible clan. Floating on the surface of the water luminous plants reached up tentacles taller than any man from a bowl-like base, and at the top of the tentacles flowers undulated and cast lilac puddles of light across the water.

The Cave Clan scouts called for them to take their beast to the edge. "I hope your beasts remember in their souls how to do this," the head scout laughed as his beast pulled its two forepaws out of the water and laid them on the stone with a slurp. The scout's beasts walked up the vertical stone, their huge bodies defying gravity.

Ateyo gulped, but urged his beast forward with all his strength of will. It seemed unwilling, but he knew it was his own fear that held his mount back. Sighing, he pressed himself to its skin and they pulled dripping up the wall.

Ateyo realised pretty quickly that he shouldn't have worried about the beasts and gravity. _He_ was the one who was in need of limbs covered in thousands of minute fibres that would allow him to cling to any surface, to become any texture or colour. He could feel his brother laughing at him as he wrapped his arms around the neck of his beast, undecided if it was the fear or the embarrassment that felt worse.

And then he was the right way up again. "Wake up Ateyo!" Kitani called.

Ateyo opened his eyes. The beauty of the first cavern, he now realised, was not going to continue. In front of them it appeared as if some disaster had befallen the Cave Clan. Huge slabs of stone were propped against the floor and walls of the next cavern at incongruous angles. Light shone through the gaps of each with the shadows of Na'vi passing through. There was no colour but the lights, only grey and black. Terrible darkness seeped into the edges of everything, and Ateyo shivered at the sudden cold.

He looked at the scouts, taking in their pale skin in this new light. He did not understand why any Na'vi would want to live in this place.

The scouts lead them down into the valley of fallen stone. Pale Na'vi children scampered over knife-edged stone, through holes and laughed at their cousins from the sea. "Stay here," the scout said. "I will get our Olo'eyktan, Matsak."

"There is no Eywa in this place," Ateyo heard one of his clan brothers' whisper to his mate. "Where are the plants? The animals?"

"And the Na'vi themselves are so strange," she replied. "Their skin is barely blue, they have far too many spots. Their eyes are too big – and did you see their hands?"

Before anyone could answer her, a group of Na'vi had emerged.

Matsak, the Olo'eyktan had not come alone. It seemed all of his clan had decided to accompany him. He looked far too young, was Ateyo's first thought. Matsak was barely a man. However his wide eyes sat over dark shadows and hollow cheeks. He ran his eyes over the newcomers, looking tired.

"Who is in charge?" Matsak demanded in a voice much stronger than his appearance.

"I am," Kitani said, dismounting. "I am Kitani of the Reytskxe Clan, who live on the coral and you call the water-walkers. Our Tsahìk is Seril, our Olo'eyktan my father, Fri'txka."

Matsak looked at Ateyo. "That is a hunter, not a warrior."

Ateyo glanced down. "That is my brother, Ateyo," Kitani said. "He spoke with Eywa who told him we had to go to the Omaticaya Clan."

Matsak hissed and his tail curled tightly. "And you ask for passage through our domain instead of asking for the grace of at least five clans who are already friend to Toruk Makto of the Omaticaya? You ask _us,_ who have so recently felt so much calamity?" He raised his hands and gestured to the stones all around them. "I suppose you think this is what our home normally looks like? You are wrong."

"Eywa told Ateyo that the Omaticaya's enemy could see them if we went across the land, that we would be of more use if we went by other means." Kitani glanced at the rocks that rose in giant shards around them. "What did happen here?"

"After the huntress Liraya was exiled for blasphemy, the ground shook with the anger of Eywa," Matsak said, his face tightening. "Many of our caves have been blocked, and we do not even know if our Utral Aymokriyä survives within the stone." He stepped forward, pacing from side to side as he spoke, "So many of our clan died – our Olo'eyktan, our Tsahìk. I'm sorry, but I cannot allow for my clan brothers and sisters to go off to war. Not now."

Kitani gaped, and Ateyo knew his brother would probably say something stupid. So he slipped off his beast and stepped towards Matsak who glared at him. "Olo'eyktan Matsak. We're not asking your clan to fight. We're simply asking that you take us to the Omaticaya."

"We have not had time to see how much damage has been done," Matsak said softly. "The way is probably blocked."

Ateyo forgot custom and grabbed Matsak's hand. The man looked down at their hands, puzzled. "I _have_ spoken with Eywa," Ateyo said urgently. "And she says that the Omaticaya are our first line of defence against the Sky People who ride stars, who will make it so that there are no Utral Aymokriyä on all of Pandora if they get their way."

Matsak pursed his lips, closed his eyes and was shaking his head. Ateyo suddenly felt as if he were older than this clan leader. Matsak's eyes were those of a little boy forced into a role he was not yet ready for.

"We _are_ sorry that this has happened to your clan," Ateyo went on, "and perhaps after this we will come and aid your clan. But before, we must make sure that Eywa is kept safe." He heard Kitani hiss behind him but ignored his elder brother, the would-be-clan-leader and focused his eyes on Matsak's.

"We don't have to fight?" Matsak clarified. Ateyo nodded. "Fine. We will take you there."

Ateyo released his hand, stepping back and smiling.

Matsak immediately called upon his best men and women. Children disappeared through the stones to get food and water bags. As the Cave Clan arranged for the expedition, bringing rope and bladder lanterns, Matsak said to Kitani, "I will come with you. The journey will take around four days, that's the fastest we can go, I promise you."

Kitani thanked him. Within half an hour, the Cave Clan had assembled fifteen beasts to lead the Reytskxe Clan through the underground labyrinth.

In the dark tunnels, time began to lose meaning. Ateyo didn't know when the feel tired or awake without the motions of the sun and the stars and the moons, and so settled into a dream-state. Oftentimes his beast would crawl on surfaces that weren't as horizontal as he liked. Ateyo began to miss the salty tang of the sea – all he could smell and taste was stone, cold stone.

Occasionally they would move through tunnels filled with fine glowing webs that disintegrated at the touch. Sometimes things would flap away from them, neither plant nor animal, other times pale things would slither into cracks in the walls. Lichen would form brilliant patterns of light but went dark if they dared touch. Five times the beasts had to wrap their limbs around ropes and slide across endless crevasses with their riders alternately crying and whooping. There were several times when the group had to retrace their steps when a passage was blocked, making Ateyo nervous that they would not arrive in time to be of any use.

During a rest break as the Cave Clan guides slept, Ateyo crawled over to Kitani. Kitani's mate patted Ateyo's cheek and smiled in the darkness. "Oel ngati kameie," she whispered. "Look how handsome he gets!"

Kitani shook his head. "Don't tease," he told her.

She grinned and kneeled behind Ateyo and began to fix his hair. "I am not teasing. You mustn't feel so threatened by your younger brother, Kitani. You should be proud he is growing a backbone."

Ateyo glared at her over his shoulder. "I didn't come to be insulted."

She smiled over the braid she was retying. "I wonder what happened to the other prophet?" she said softly. "Lira... Liraha?"

"Liraya," Ateyo said after a pause. He looked over all the sleeping forms towards the Cave Clan members. "This clan sees things so strangely. They banish those with the word of Eywa, and then blame their problems on her. As if Eywa would shake the Earth!"

"I was talking to one of the guides," Kitani whispered, "Apparently their Tsahìk didn't die in the Earthquake – she actually disappeared a while ago. It was before the prophet made her claims. The prophet also said that she should become the next Tsahìk – _that_ is why they exiled her. She was tute a kurakx, outcaste, and they didn't like her trying to take such a position."

His mate frowned, leaning past Ateyo's shoulder. "Outcaste?"

"We don't have them," Kitani said, "It was while you were asleep, they had to explain it to me. The idea is ... that not all Na'vi are equal."

Ateyo and Kitani's mate gave him an uncomprehending stare.

"Well," Kitani went on hurriedly, "not that Eywa makes them unequal, but what they _do_ makes them unequal. So, the Olo'eyktan, Tsahìk –" his eyes searched the darkness for examples, "_Toruk Makto,_ they are high caste."

Ateyo shook his head, "but even they are equal to all other Na'vi in the eyes of Eywa. Their position is made by Na'vi, but Eywa is not Na'vi so she does not See it."

"That is what I said!" Kitani said.

"What made the prophet an outcaste?"

Kitani looked down. "I must not say it; I doubt it is even true."

His mate crawled across to him and laid her hand on his elbow. "If we are to stay in their graces it is best if we understand them. Tell us."

"Well," Kitani said, his lips curling in disgust, "They said the reason the prophet huntress Liraya was an outcaste, was that her grandmother had mated with her first cousin."

Ateyo looked sharply away, feeling sickened. "That is forbidden. That is against the Balance."

"Yes," Kitani said. "And it gets worse. She had _five_ fingers and _five_ toes on the end of each limb because of it. They say she was cursed from birth – she was the most beautiful, to tempt all the young clansmen into passing on her-" he grimaced, "alien features. They thought that her hearing Eywa was probably a madness due to the curse."

Ateyo could not meet his brother's eyes. "Brother ... you do not think that I ... that I am an alien for speaking with Eywa?"

He felt his brother's wind-dry hand on his neck. Ateyo held his brother's eyes. "No, of course not," Kitani said, his voice rough. He softly slapped Ateyo's cheek and grinned at him. "It's not as if you have too many fingers and toes! So you're clearly not insane!"

Ateyo left his lips quirk and leaned against his beast, his eyes closing as its warm side rose and fell with its breathing. He couldn't help worrying though: Eywa did not speak to the Na'vi, not even to the Tsahìk, it was the accepted truth. She was beyond words. So why had she suddenly begun to use them – and to the Na'vi nobody wanted to listen to?

_Ateyo was in the pool with Eywa. When She spoke he__ flipped in the water, inhaling a mouthful of brine. Spitting it out he looked around. He was alone._

"_Help us."_

_He sat up, holding the tendril tight in his hand as his breath quickened._

"_Eywa?" He squeaked._

"_So young," She whispered breathlessly._

_Suddenly it did not feel as if he'd come clutching into her warm embrace, but as if she were clutching at him. The sound of the sea disappeared with a roar, the sky before him turning dark but he could see something within, from Eywa._

_A face. But far too blurry for him to recognise it, to even tell if it were male or female. He could feel his muscles tensing as She struggled to organise Herself. The face became slowly clearer._

_It was a man. His eyes were narrowed and cheeky, his hair that of a young boy's and not of an adult. His facial markings were like Ateyo had never seen before, the stars appearing in what seemed to be randomised patterns so that Ateyo could not even begin to imagine what clan he was from. The edges of him shimmered, his nose and lips shifting as if this were a hazy memory. He spoke one alien word: "Grace..."_

"_Toruk Makto," Eywa added._

_The face quickly disappeared and a second image, much more fuzzy appeared, and Ateyo wondered if he could even believe it if it had been clear._

_It was a landscape. A landscape dotted with strange stones, squares with triangles on the top, smoke hugging the valley. The ground beneath him came into view, covered by a dry shrivelled weed the colour of bones. Just down the hill from him a giant block of stone rolled forward up the hill as if by magic, flattening all in its path, beeping. His focus looked down to the ground, a small green shoot coming into view. A surge of emotion that was not his – unadulterated joy. But then it was gone and the smoke was blotting out the sky. A roar. He looked up, a metal bird flying past._

"_The Sky People did this," Eywa said. "You must go to Toruk Makto."_

All too soon they had to continue on. However, there was relief in the form of shafts of light that fell in rows from cracks in the high ceiling of long caverns. Despite the fact that they were heading downhill, Matsak said, "We are nearing the surface."

Ateyo looked down at the soft dust that rose in clouds around the beasts, particles glinting in the light.

Aside from the trail of the war party and their guides, a single set of tracks meandered across the cave floor. Ateyo broke the line, following them to the bank of the unground river running against the wall, where the tracks disappeared.

Behind him one of the beasts groaned and made its way to him. It was Matsak, who struggled to control his beast in the same way Ateyo did – but it was not so surprising, considering how young Matsak clearly was. Barely old enough to be a clan leader, let alone have his own mate. In spite of this, the young olo'eyktan quickly brought the beast to a stop. He looked to Ateyo through the shaft of light that cut between them.

"They could be hundreds of years old," Matsak said. "No clan has been in this territory for a very long time."

"Is this ... Omaticaya territory?"

Matsak glanced upwards. "The Omaticaya live as far above the ground as they can." He smiled. "We are very close. The exit is just at the end of this cave."

Ateyo twisted to see the front of the line, waterproof bladder lanterns bobbing. "I don't see anything –"

"The rock that is our roof," Matsak said, "Is in blocks that go up – in the gaps comes the light. At the bottom of this hill, there is a pool – we swim down, under the rim of one of the stones, then through the next gap we go up, and up because that water is a river to the surface. Well – according to legend."

"Such strange ideas," Ateyo said, shaking his head, "Only a child could have imagined them."

Matsak pushed his beast around and called over his shoulder, "No, Eywa did."

Suddenly there was a yell from the front of the line. With more control than Ateyo had ever seen a lone rider have over his beast, Matsak twisted his stead around and rushed to the end of the cavern to the water's edge. Kicking up dust in a less controlled manner, Ateyo followed, allowing his beast to shoulder through the crowd.

At the edge of the water a strange item was crammed between two rocks, the rushing water only pounding it further into the crevice. The thing was massive – as the lanterns lit up the clear water, its giant form was revealed to be about twice the size of a fully grown beast. Stranger still, it was bright yellow for the most part, and had sharp square edges. This was not a rock, and yet it had never been alive. If Ateyo didn't know better, he would have said someone had _made it._

"What is it?" Kitani demanded.

Matsak jumped down from his beast, ignoring as it roared its way over boulders to the water's edge and began to drink. He held up a hand to his clansmen and women and guests, leaping nimbly over rocks towards the water and the thing. Reaching out a shaking hand, he rested his palm against the yellow protrusion from the water.

"It is cold," he called, leaned forward, sniffing, his ears twitching for a sound, his tail whipping behind him. He licked the surface and said, "It tastes like blood." He stroked its yellow exterior. "It hasn't been here long – a few hours, maybe. A day at most."

"Olo'eyktan!" one of the scouts shouted, "Please get away from it! It could be dangerous!"

Matsak turned and hissed at the man. Then he turned to face the thing again, grabbing onto a tube that ran down the side and used it to haul himself on top of it. He disappeared around the other side. "HAH!" he yelled. "There are more!"

He crawled back into view and stood on the top. "There are more under the water. I think – it seems, perhaps, that the way is blocked."

There was mumbling of dissent at this. "How will we get to the surface?" Kitani said.

Matsak jumped back onto the rocks and returned to the group. He widened his eyes at the scouts. "Aren't there ... to the north?"

A couple looked to the wall as if it had answers. "Well, considering the stones – but this land is very old, it is not like our brothers and sisters to the south –"

Ateyo frowned at the wall of stone, trying to understand what the Cave Clan members were talking about.

"...will rest until you return," Matsak was telling the scouts.

The couple's beast turned with ease and began to rush back up the slope. Everybody else dismounted, allowing the beasts to rush to the water, fighting each other to lap noisily. The Na'vi gathered on the sandy floor in a rough circle. A few of the scouts pulled from packs dried roots and set about making a fire.

Ateyo pulled his own knapsack into his lap, pulling out one of the packages of food given to him by the Cave Clan. It reminded him of the cake the Reytskxe Clan made from the plankton that swept near their home during typhoon season. Except this was made of crushed grubs called teylu. Ateyo took a reluctant bite. He hoped that on the surface, the Omaticaya would have plankton bread, fish, soft corals to feed him with. He'd heard little about the land-dwelling Na'vi and he wondered constantly about that world above him. He missed the smell of brine, he missed walking across the water covered coral plains for miles so that it was only him, blue against the blue sky and the blue water, not this place where every time he turned around he came face to face with someone. The caves were dirty and cramped, even the big ones. Surely land was very similar to the sea – just blue above and flat below, and nothing else.

In that sky, Toruk Makto would be flying. Ateyo did worry about that – how would they find that great warrior when none of them could fly?

He took another bite, swallowed with difficulty then wrapped the offending biscuit up again and shoved the bag over his shoulder. He stood and wandered over to the water, keeping from the beasts, a few of which had leapt into the water. He squeezed himself between boulders towards the yellow thing, sat on a rock and looked at it.

He cocked his head to the side, ears pricked. Although it was completely alien, there was something familiar about it. His head continued to tilt until he was looking at it almost upside down.

Despite being yellow, it reminded him of something in his vision from Eywa. A giant stone that could move all by itself – the magic of the Sky People. He scampered to his feet, looking at it the right way. The smooth lines, the precise edges – yes, it really was like that vision!

His ears flattened to his skull.

His beast splashed into sight, pulling itself onto the Sky Person's boulder and shook itself. Ateyo flinched as giant droplets rained on him. There was a laugh behind him.

It was his brother and his mate. "Little brother," Kitani said, "the scouts are back – they have found a way. Come on, you're holding everybody up!"

Ateyo clicked to his beast, which turned its eyes upon him. In the darkness they glowed. It seemed to sigh, sliding off the yellow thing and onto shore, and was unusually docile as he mounted.

The new route to the surface required the party to retrace their steps for an hour or so. They then had to squeeze through painfully narrow cracks in the rock. For the few lone riders, their beasts had to be pulled from the front and pushed from behind just to cooperate.

The final tunnel appeared, vague light reflecting off the walls from an unseen source.

Ateyo felt giddy at the sight, urging his beast forward. At the silent command, the beast leapt forward, crushing other beasts and riders into the wall, scrambling past rock. Ateyo cried out as the slick skin beneath him grew ridges with knife-edges that cut into his thighs – he curled his feet around the newly appeared spikes and lifted himself off the beast. His feet bled and burned, so it was all he could do to hold on as his beast, now out of control, ignoring him, climbing over everyone else, bellowing towards the light.

Ateyo looked forward, hoping that the exit would appear so that his beast would calm. Wheeling around a bend a circle of red come into view, the intensity hitting the back of his retina. Ateyo yelled again, snapping his eyes shut.

He did not see that the exit was small. He did not see the wall of stone that ground into his face, throwing him off his beast.

By the time he looked up, squinting, the red in his eyes not from the sunset but his own blood, his beast had disappeared into a giant wall of what looked like kelp and coral.

Cave Clan members reached him.

"What is this place?" he asked, brushing blood from his eyes.

"That is jungle," Matsak said. "The Omaticaya are in there."

* * *

Jake woke.

Ribs were broken. There was a deep gash on his back, but the blood seemed dry. He was face down in a puddle of his own drool and leaf-litter.

He winced, kneeling. It was still dark. He still had time.

Looking around, he swore. No pa'li. In the ground were deep depressions and scratches, the freshly turned mud glistening like wounds. Getting up, Jake could feel the ruined feathers in his hair pulling from where they had dried into his blood. Checking the sky, he turned ninety degrees and began to march himself through the forest.

* * *

The thing about the Reytskxe Clan and Cave dwellers is, for the most part, they don't track. To make their hunts they learn migration paths, breeding patterns. They feel for vibrations. Traps are set. The best they knew was clear prints in age-old sands. So they didn't see the subtle scratches along serrated leaves, dabbled sap, scents and other such signs that would have shown the hunting tracks of the Omaticaya that riddled the forest.

Ateyo sat in silent panic while Kitani wiped the bleeding gash on his forehead. Back home, in the sea, such a wound would have had a sea slug slapped on it and he wouldn't have thought about it further. But here, he dripped, red lines like a warrior's paint down his chest.

The Cave Clans scouts stood blinking their over-large eyes in the disappearing sunlight, clearly too polite to leave before they were sure the Reytskxe were on their way. The herd of beasts huddled against the cliff from which they had burst from, scratching at the stone, suspicious of the forest plants. The beasts rippled in the purpling light, taking on smooth hairless skins that reflected the plants which were beginning to glow, which only made the huge animals look slicker.

At last Matsak stood beside Kitani and looked down at the two brothers. "I have a suggestion," he said.

Kitani lifted his hands from Ateyo's forehead, making a sound of exasperation. He slapped two red handprints onto his knees and looked at the young Cave Clan olo'eyktan.

"This cliff will provide a vantage point," Matsak said. "Take your warriors along it, and maybe you will see something, or hear something, that will lead you to the Omaticaya." He glanced at Ateyo, who was licking his bloody lips. "I am no Tsahìk, but if you can get your prophet-brother to Eywa, she may give you directions."

Kitani stood, nodding. "You are a good strategist, olo'eyktan."

Matsak dipped his head. Then he moved a step towards his beast. "Our clan cannot be without its best scouts, when we are so lost. Good luck, Kitani and brother Ateyo of Seril's Reytskxe Clan."

Kitani called to his warriors, who leapt onto their steeds and scrambled up the rock-face. Kitani's mate helped Ateyo up, and he sat in front of her, behind his brother on the beast's shoulders.

The cliff rose above the canopy. The jungle spilled below them, a spangled phosphorescence of twisted plants. The cave from which they had emerged had been at the top of a steep incline on the side of a wide valley, and as such the cliff was the lip of this furrow in the land. The early evening sat heavy, the last vestiges of purple light reaching up from the horizon like a sigh. The beasts began to move along the rock ledge, riders sitting straight-backed, ears pricked and eyes wide.

There was a murmuring as a flock of forest banshees came careering past a curve in the valley, bare meters from the cliff-top. One swerved, making one of the beast-riders jerk back on his beast, his mate raising her spear.

The flock plunged low out of sight, spreading out across the valley and disappearing against the jungle.

The riders began to urge their beasts onwards. Wind screamed through the valley, buffeting them.

The beasts seemed to meet a wall, bouncing back as an ear splitting roar echoed throughout the valley.

Around the bend, rushing above the lip of the rock, a huge shape flapped into sight. Ateyo's neck craned, eyes wide. Beasts' eyes lifted like torches, following the strange new flying creature, illuminating red-yellow wings which buffered wind. Already high over-head, the fiery-flying creature flipped over backwards, tunnelling down towards the war-party.

They scattered, screaming.

Ateyo could hear the almost hollow sound of its jaws as it landed, swinging head side to side and snapping. And above his own war-party's threatening whoops, Ateyo heard a roar, not of animal, but man.

Ateyo leaned forward, almost slipping off his brother's beast's shoulders to grab Kitani's shoulders, shake and yell, "It's Toruk Makto! Stop the attack! Toruk Makto!"

Kitani yelled, "TORUK MAKTO!"

The toruk roared again as a spear pierced through its wing, spreading them in a threatening display. Now, Ateyo could see perched the silhouette of Toruk Makto. Tumbling from his brother's steed he tripped forward, hands held out.

"Toruk Makto," he called.

"Srak?"

Ateyo could feel spittle on his lips, he spoke so fast. "I am Ateyo, brother of Kitani," he gestured to his brother, "the next olo'eyktan of Tsahìk Seril's Reytskxe Clan. We come from far away, from the coral islands off the coast, and we have come via the Cave Clan's domain to come help you against the Star-riders who have, Eywa has told me, returned, and we know we didn't help you fight them the first time, because you did not call upon us, but – "

"Woah," cut in Toruk Makto. Ateyo blinked. Was this an Omaticaya word? Ateyo did not know it.

Toruk Makto jumped down from the toruk, walking to its head and stroking it, making it fold its wings and settle. Then he looked up at the Reytskxe, who were banding together before him.

Ateyo took a step forward. Toruk Makto lifted his brow, then lifted his hand and crooked his finger. Ateyo did not recognise the gesture, but walked up to Toruk Makto nevertheless.

The toruk exhaled, making Ateyo pause.

Toruk Makto smiled. His hand went back to its nose, "You can touch him if you like."

Ateyo reached forward, shaking. Toruk Makto took his hand, laying it on the toruk's nose, spreading his palm flat against the warm, dry skin.

Ateyo sucked in a breath and jumped back. He stared at Toruk Makto's hands. His eyes darted to Toruk Makto's, confused. "You have too many fingers."

Toruk Makto looked to his own hand, startled, and laughed. "You're right."

Ateyo blurted, "Why?" Behind him, Kitani hissed at him.

Toruk Makto's eyes flicked to Kitani. Ateyo noticed another thing about Toruk Makto, little black lines of hair over his eyes, eyes which seemed slightly odd. Breathing quickly, Ateyo couldn't help but run his eyes down Toruk Makto's markings, noticing how they matched no star-system known to him. Ateyo also noticed the numerous scratches and bruises that covered Toruk Makto's body, the wheezing breaths he took, the way three of his left ribs seemed to protrude just slightly.

"You're hurt!" He looked over his shoulder at his brother, who signed to the others. Warriors with healing supplies hurried forward.

Toruk Makto held out a hand. "Have you got bindings?"

"Yes, of course," said one of the healers, approaching nervously. "Let us help Toruk Makto."

"Don't call me that," Toruk Makto said weakly. "I'm Jake Sully. Just Jake."

"Jahake?" Ateyo repeated, feeling the strange new sound sit like a fish bone in his mouth.

"Jake," Jake repeated.

There was murmuring amongst the war-party as they repeated this odd new name. He nodded, allowing healers to kneel at his side and begin to wrap strips to sail-fish skin to bind his broken ribs. Once done, they shuffled back. One of the healers whispered in Ateyo's ear, "His ribs are strange too."

Jake's ears twitched, clearly hearing the gossip. His scratched face looked worn and tired. He looked at the beasts. "What are they?"

"They are our beasts.

Jake looked at the war-party. There were a thousand questions to ask, but no time to ask them, much less have them answered. So he climbed back onto his toruk. "If you continue along this ledge you'll come to a waterfall," he said. "Follow the river upstream. You'll eventually get to Hell's Gate, the home of the Sawtute. I'll have some of my warriors meet you."

"Irayo, Toruk Makto ... we will do all you ask of us, for Eywa."

Jake nodded at the young hunter Ateyo, then leaned down, arm extended. Jake saw the young Na'vi man's eyes flick to the leader of the war party, Kitani, who looked mildly annoyed. Ateyo tripped forward, touching Jake's hand.

Jake looked down at Ateyo's hand. "You said you come from the sea?"

Ateyo nodded nervously.

Jake's eyes flicked back down. He held Ateyo's wrist, holding up the young hunter's hand so he could see it more clearly.

"I'm not the only one with strange hands," he said with a wry smile, eyes never leaving the webbing between Ateyo's fingers.

Then he urged Toruk into the sky, fingers at his throat. "Neytiri?"

A muffled sound. "What is wrong, Jake?" she said, voice high.

"Don't worry," he said. "There's a clan, they say they come from the sea, who've come to help us!"

A pause of radio static. "How they know to come?"

Jake shrugged, then remembered she couldn't see him. "Eywa spoke to one of them."

There was silence as both of them tried to accept this impossibility.

"Anyway," Jake said, "An hour or so before dawn, you'll need to ride out. Can you get a few warriors to go to the river that passes Hell's Gate? At the bend, where –"

"I know of where you speak," Neytiri said. "We can leave now."

"No," Jake said firmly. "You still have a couple of hours sleep."

He could almost hear the disapproval in Neytiri's silence.

"At dawn," she said carefully, "We will make sure the Sawtute know that we are Na'vi."

Jake bared his teeth into the wind, grinning. His toruk flapped silent over the night-time jungle. He gave his war cry and then ended the transmission. Although war was never his aim, when faced with it, Jake felt a part of him was at home. From dreams as a young man to now: Jake was a fighter in his very blood. And even with his new body, that blood still ran in his veins. Above all, Jake Sully had something worth fighting for.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm back. Yes, it's been a long time. For those of you who are still on this journey with me and Jake, welcome back, and thank you.


End file.
